Why Can't It Be a Joke?
by bballgirl32
Summary: Fred and George end up back in time, break up the fight that would've killed Ariana Dumbledore, then watch Albus and Grindelwald leave without realizing just how much they've changed until they return to a twisted future. More detailed summary inside.
1. Help!

**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, none of the characters, all belong to J.K. Rowling, blah, blah, blah. **

**Summary**

**The Weasley twins are experimenting with time for a new joke product, but end up getting sent back much farther than they expected, and right into the middle of the fight where Ariana Dumbledore would have been murdered. **

**Rather than casting the Cruciatus Curse in front of the twins, Gellert Grindelwald stuns Aberforth and convinces Albus follow him out the door. **

**Fred and George return to the future, not expecting much of a change. They're in for a shock when they find themselves in a Dystopian future where Muggles and Muggleborns are kept as pets or live in overcrowded prison. A world where Dumbledore has been morphed into a crazy dictator, and Gellert Grindelwald rules by his side with an iron fist. To make things worse, the Weasleys are esteemed because of their blood status, and Fred and George seemed to have taken up where their cruel predecessors have left off, leaving them with horrible reputations, horrible friends, and memories from another life fighting to take over their minds. **

**They know that their only choice is to right their wrongs, but doing that is going to involve a long and painful journey. One that they may not survive. **

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

**_Help, I need somebody, _**

**_Help, not just anybody, _**

**_Help, you know I need someone, help. _**

**_Help, The Beatles _**

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

Fred Weasley had always had a nose for trouble. Everyone said that George was more soft-spoken, gentler, less brash. He was the one who thought things through, who made carefully detailed plans, who made sure that no one was ever going to get hurt.

Fred didn't see what the point of all that thinking was. Life was short. He wasn't going to spend it considering every little thing that could go wrong. He wanted to _live._

And that is exactly what he told his mother when she caught him adding lacewing flies to his potion when she knew that it already contained powdered unicorn horn, which even a first year would recognize as a volatile mixture.

George laughed from the corner of the room while he looked through a book on time traveling. He was trying to work out a formula for a potion that they could mix up into candies that would rewind time for just a few minutes. Not in the way a time turner did, either.

They wanted to rewire time, change the universe. Not for long periods of time, obviously. They'd give their candies properties to go back ten minutes at the most. Incase you asked out a girl and she said no, or you failed a quiz that you should have spent those ten minutes studying for.

It was the perfect idea, Fred's own, sure to be a best seller. George was into it wholeheartedly, checking to see if it was even possible that they could actually change the timeline.

Fred shook his head at his brother as their mother left the room. He had perfect instincts for this stuff. He didn't need any real formulas. While George wrote down fancy ingredients and measurements, he threw stuff in a cauldron.

Forgetting about his mother's warnings, he put a pinch of crushed beadle eyes into the creamy mixture. It turned a blazing orange and started bubbling viciously. He grinned, his gut telling him that this was exactly what they needed. Fred scooped up some of the potion in a test tube, put a stopper on top, then turned back to the still nearly full cauldron.

It was always good to make cures to his potions, on the _very _rare occasion that there was a mistake. So he started adding ingredients that he knew countered the ones that he put in his first batch. When he was finished, he scooped some of that up as well, picked up both test tubes, and hurried over to George.

"I've got it, I can feel it. This is going to work better than any time turner."

"Do you know how far back it goes?" George asked. Fred made a face at his twin.

"Not exactly, but I didn't add too many ingredients. It can't take a person back very far, I don't think."

"You think it's safe to test?" George asked, looking warily at the test tube in Fred's hand. It was still bubbling cheerfully.

"Oh, of course," Fred said, waving off his worries. "I'm sure that it's perfectly fine. If not, I've got another one that should send us back to our normal time if there is a mistake. Now, the question is how to test it."

"Well, we don't want to go back anywhere around here, just incase we wind up in a different place from where we started. We don't want to just appear outside here, not with all the Muggles around."

"Right you are, brother," Fred said, easily seeing the logic there. "Why don't we go to Godric's Hollow, instead? It's mostly a wizarding village, so if we appear out of nowhere, people won't be too freaked out."

"Yeah," George said, but Fred could see that his twin was worried. "But what if it goes back too far and we run into Voldemort when he killed Harry?" Fred snorted.

"Is that pessimism I hear?" he asked. "I never would've thunk it, Forge."

"Shove it, Gred," George said with a grin. "I was just saying."

"Well, I'm saying that we can floo there easily. It's convenient, and it'll take two seconds."

"What about Hogwarts?" asked George.

"How're we going to get there in Summer? Nope, Godric's Hollow. Chances of going back to the exactly night and time that Harry died are one in a million, and nothing else big happened there that could change the course of history. Besides, we can apparate there since we've already visited the Potter Memorial. Much easier than breaking into Hogwarts."

"And you're sure your potion won't kill us?"

"Sure as pudding," Fred said with a grin. George relaxed, starting to gain faith in his twin.

"Brilliant. Now, time for test phase one."

The two twins both apparated to the park in Godric's Hollow with a loud CRACK.

"So, where do you want to do this thing?" Fred asked once they had both collected their bearings.

"I dunno. Let's just go over to that tree. We can go back, carve our names in it, and if it's there when we return, we've succeeded."

Fred yawned.

"Booooring. I say we invade a random house, terrorize the occupants, then go back in time and see if we can catch our future selves and stop them before they actually do anythingr."

"But if it doesn't work?"

Fred grinned devilishly.

"We leave some people pretty creeped out. It wouldn't be the first time."

George shrugged, conceding his point.

"I s'pose you're right. Now, whose life shall we make exciting today?"

"What about theirs?" Fred asked, pointing to a rather official looking two story house. In fact, he'd almost say that the house had a feeling of a museum of some sort about it, a demand to be respected.

"Bloody hell, it looks like the kind of place that Snape would live. You sure?"

"Hell, maybe Snape lives there. Just imagine it," Fred said. He could feel his eyes shining as a hundred new possibilities flooded into his head. If this potion worked, it could be used for so much more than getting out of a tardy. He could do anything he wanted to Snape next year, and then just zip back in time and make it go all away.

If this worked, his seventh year was going to be very pleasant.

"You're right, Fred. Picking on an old, Snape-like bat is too good to resist. Let's go," he said. With that, the two twins started skipping up the ominous path towards the empty looking house.

Once they got to the weathered white door, Fred knocked cheerfully. The door popped open, and he peered into the house, then figured 'what the hell' and bellowed, "HELLO!" at the top of his lungs.

Only his echoes answered him.

"Huh, empty," George said thoughtfully. "Shall we simply leave a mark here, then go back and change it, or would you prefer to switch houses?"

"Ah, hell. Let's just stay here. I bet that Mum is going to put supper on in a few minutes, and I'm positively famished."

"Agreed. So, what do you say we should do…."

"Reducto!" Fred said gleefully, sending a powerful blast into the hardwood floor at his feet. Wood flew out of the ground, spraying in different directions. He smirked. "Alright. Shall we go back and stop ourselves from blowing the floor up?"

"We've better now, haven't we?"

Fred tried to fake a guilty look, but he couldn't keep a straight face. With a crazy grin, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the first bubbling orange vial.

"Ready, George?" he asked.

"Clearly," his twin answered.

As Fred help up the bottle to take out the stopper, the stopper popped out more suddenly than he expected. He jerked forward reflexively to catch it, but George reached for it at the same time.

George's arm collided with his, causing Fred to drop the vial.

Orange, bubbly potion fizzled across the floor. For a moment, Fred looked at it in terror. Then it fizzled out and he relaxed. He felt George do the same thing.

"Wow, that was scary," Fred said, bending over to pick up the stopper.

"Too bad we can't test it today, though," said George as he looked disdainfully at the mess.

Fred was just about to suggest that they could try again tomorrow when the potion started fizzing again for barely long enough for him to notice it. He had just enough time to get nervous, and then it seemed like the entire world exploded around him.

He felt the strange tugging on his navel that came with apparation, and for a moment, everything was a blur. Then he was suddenly thrown into the middle of three very angry looking boys and a small girl who looked terrified. George joined him a moment later.

"What did you do, Albus!" a scruffy-looking boy, around their age, asked roughly, glaring at him and George like they were Inferi.

"I didn't do it," protested an auburn haired boy, slightly older than the two of them.

"Don't look at us like that, Goat Man. They're unintelligent scum who didn't apparate to the right spot, not Dark Magic creatures," a blonde haired boy said in a thick German accent.

"Right, no Dark Magic here," George said quickly, obviously thinking more clearly than Fred was. "We're new around here, got a little lost. I'm sorry that we interrupted your… thing, but we'll just be gone now."

"Speaking of being gone," the blonde boy said as he tucked a wand that Fred didn't even notice he was holding into his belt, "I don't think that fighting is really necessary, is it Al?"

The auburn haired boy smirked, giving the scruffy boy a look that Fred had only ever seen before on Malfoy.

"No, Gellert, I don't believe that it is," he said. Then he turned his eyes to the twins. That's the first time that Fred made the connection. Albus. Al. And the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen.

"Oh, Bugger," he whispered. He'd just led him and his brother into the middle of a Dumbledore family feud.

"I'll have to thank you two. You kept my brother from forcing things to get out of control," he said.

The scruffy boy, his brother, literally growled.

"We aren't done talking yet."

"Actually," the blonde boy interrupted, "I think that it's safe to say that this conversation is indeed completed." Then he raised his wand and sent Albus's brother to the floor in an immobile heap.

Fred watched in horror, paralyzed with fear. The boy must've seen the look on his face because he rolled his eyes.

"Calm down. I didn't kill him. He's just knocked out. See for yourself, if you want."

Then, before Fred could answer, the boy headed right out the front door, a somewhat more reluctant looking Dumbledore following behind him.

As soon as they were gone, the twins gave each other worried looks.

"You don't think we just did something horrible, do you?" George asked. Fred managed a nervous laugh.

"Nah. They were fighting anyway. We didn't change anything."

"But we should get out of here quick, just to make sure we don't mess up anything else, right?" George asked.

Fred's eyes flashed to the terrified looking girl in the corner, then to the stunned boy next to them.

"They'll be okay, won't they?"

"Yeah, look. He's already starting to move," George pointed out. Fred saw that his brother was right. "We should leave before he stops us."

"Agreed," Fred said, then hurriedly grabbed the other vial from his pocket. Being extra careful this time, he tipped a mouthful into his mouth, then gave it to George to do the same.

Again, there was the pulling in his abdomen, and he was rocketed forward. He vaguely wondered if they'd get back in time for supper.

Then everything went still. Fred looked around and let out a relived sigh, seeing that everything was perfect. The floor wasn't even messed up anymore.

George appeared beside him a moment later, studying his surroundings just as Fred had done. Fred grinned at him when George realized that everything was fine.

"Told you we didn't change anything," Fred said smugly.

George just rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Okay, you got lucky. Now come on, let's get back to Grimmauld Place. I'm starving, and Mum is probably worried."

"Bloody hell," Fred muttered. "I can only pray that she didn't notice we were gone. She'd probably have a fit if she knew that we left."

George shivered.

"Yeah. We really should hurry."

Then him and George both turned, thinking of the steps in front of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

When Fred opened his eyes, he nearly had a heart attack.

The tall buildings were all gone, replaced by what looked a heck of a lot like barracks. An enormous flag was fluttering in the breeze, and if Fred hadn't seen it, he would've figured that he had just apparated to the wrong place.

As it was, he did see it, and he was lucky that he didn't eat anything because he would have thrown up on the spot if he had. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see George, eyes wide and staring at the flag as well.

Dumbledore and an older version of the blonde boy from the fight smiled down upon them. In one corner of the flag was a symbol of a triangle with a circle inside it and a line through the middle. Running across the top were the words, "For the Greater Good."

Just as Fred remembered where he had heard that motto before, he heard the grim chuckle come from behind him.

"Merlin, I know that you two love to help out with the Mudbloods, but really, I'd figure that finally getting yourself a pet of your own would be enough to keep you out of here for at least the morning."

Fred whipped around, sure that he had just heard his brother Bill's voice say the word Mudblood. Sure enough, the familiar face of his oldest brother was grinning down at them complacently, but there was something different in his eyes. Something cold and cruel.

"Although," continued Bill, "I understand why you find it so much fun in there. All of them are so feisty, aren't they?"

"Wait," George said, his voice filled with disgust. "There are people in those barracks, and you think that we're... we're _raping_ them?"

Bill laughed, long and hard.

"Oh come on, George," he chuckled, "you can't think that we're that stupid. Yeah, it's a disgusting habit, but we all do it, there's no reason to play dumb."

Fred felt like he was going to be sick. He was still mostly clueless, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to figure out what was actually going on.

"Right, uh, sorry Bill," George said with a nervous laugh. He looked at Fred desperately, but Fred didn't know what to do.

"Hey, no problem. You've been looking a little off. Probably a bug. You'll get over it. Now come on, the market opens in a half hour, and if you two want to get good ones you'll have to hurry."

"Good whats?"

"Pets, George," said Bill, like it was obvious.

"Pets?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, you know, Mudbloods."

That's when Fred promptly fainted.

**A/N-**

**Yes, yes, it's a bit strange, but I promise that you'll like it if you keep going. Please, please review! **


	2. If You're Going Through Hell

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_If you're going through hell  
>Keep on going, don't slow down<br>If you're scared don't show it  
>You might get out<br>Before the devil even knows you're there_**

**_If You're Going Through Hell, Rodney Atkins_**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
><em>**

George sat off to the side on the grassy hill that him and Fred had apparated to. Bill was helping Fred out, and he had used the opportunity to sneak away for some time to sort out his thoughts.

There wasn't much to think about, he figured. Everything was pretty simple. Dumbledore's buddy was clearly Gellert Grindelwald, judging from the motto on the flag. In the other timeline, something would have happened during that fight, something that would've set them against each other. Instead, him and Fred interrupted it, and they stayed friends. Dumbledore was influenced, and now…

Now Fred and he were in a place where Muggles and Muggleborns were enslaved or stuck in concentration camps. To make things even better, apparently him and Fred had some dirty habits involving the prisoners in those camps.

With a shiver, George looked over at the rows of barracks that sat under the hill. They were fenced in, something he hadn't noticed at first glance. The ground seemed to be nothing but mud, and there was a hole in the corner that he guessed was supposed to serve as a bathroom.

As he watched, a filthy gray skeleton staggered out of one of the barracks.

He must have sensed George staring at him because he slowly turned around, his eyes widening fearfully when he caught sight of him. Half of his face was black with a dark magic curse.

Just as the man was turning to hurry back into his barracks, a girl who looked around her fourth year started out the door. The man noticed her and went crazy, waving and gesturing for her to get back inside. The girl caught sight of George, then spun so fast that she nearly fell over.

George buried his face in his hands, knowing that he had clearly did something to that family, dreading what it was. He wouldn't have touched that girl, who didn't look any older than his sister,… Would have he?

"Don't look so worried, George," Bill said from behind him. "Fred is fine, just had a dizzy spell. Now come on. You two still have to get your pets, and Mum wants you to get your other supplies, too."

George sulkily forced himself to his feet and followed Bill to where Fred was sitting.

"You okay?" George asked. Fred shrugged.

"Good enough," he said, then bitterly finished, "I'm sure that Mudblood shopping will cheer me up."

"It will," Bill assured him. "Now, you two can go ahead and head to Diagon Alley. Ginny wanted me to go get her after I found you. Of course, she'll probably whine and beg for her own slave the entire time, but I just can't leave her behind. I suppose Ron wants to go too…" He trailed off and shook his head. "Mum wouldn't allow it, though. Not after last time."

Fred and George looked at him, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he turned and apparated away.

Fred started talking the second that Bill was gone.

"Now what?" Fred asked.

"We go to Diagon Alley," George said. "It's not like there are any other options. I'm not risking any more of your potions, so we'll have to wait until we get to Hogwarts and find help there."

"Hogwarts?" Fred asked. "Is there a Hogwarts?"

"I think. Bill mentioned school supplies. I reckon we just play it safe until then, try to fit in here, then get out as soon as possible."

"But we know nothing," Fred said. "People will know that we're different!"

"Not if we don't act like it. We can kind of piece together what we're like. You heard what Bill said about our… habit. Apparently we have a thing for girls."

Fred blanched.

"Apparently," he muttered.

"And we're purebloods, when this place obviously doesn't accept anything but, so I'd say that we've got to have some status."

"I'd say so, too," Fred said, sounding pretty sure of it.

"What? How do you know?"

"Look behind you," said Fred.

George listened, turning around and for once getting a good view of the front of the concentration camp.

Above the main entrance was a metal sign that clearly said, "Nurmengard, Weasley Branch 3, Pop. 329."

George felt sick.

"Merlin, Dad owns a prison," he whispered.

"More than one," Fred amended. "It says Weasley Branch 3. There are at least two others."

"Well," George said, trying to force a smile, even though he couldn't quite succeed. "I suppose that means we have to act rich and snooty now, too. If Dad owns the prisons, like you'd think, well, we've got to be pretty high-class."

"So we're acting like cruel pureblood elitists. Let's just imitate Draco Malfoy," Fred said, actually making George laugh.

"Great plan. Fake like we know what we're doing, mock Malfoy, and try not to die in the process. Sounds like a Quidditch match."

The two twins laughed uneasily at the shaky attempt at humor, then turned as one and apparated to Diagon Alley.

For a moment, George could do nothing but look around with wide eyes. All of the quaint little shops were gone, replaced by tall, regal buildings with golden signs and marble walls. There were no street vendors, no dodgy looking witches in filthy robes. Everyone was quiet and collected, wearing velvet robes and strutting down the street rather than walking. It looked like Narcissa Malfoy had given the buildings, and the people, makeovers.

"Apparently when you only have twenty five different families with actual money, the quality of everything goes up," Fred muttered.

"You think it is just twenty five?" George asked. "I mean, what about half bloods."

Fred waved his arm, gesturing to the entire alley.

"Do you see anyone here who doesn't look one hundred percent stuck-up pureblood?"

His brother was right, but George still muttered a weak, "Well, you can't really tell." Even though you kind of could.

Once they had gotten over how different the place was, Fred and George started walking down the street, heading in the general direction of Gringotts. They figured that if they'd be buying school supplies, they would need money.

As they made their way towards the old bank, their steps started becoming more and more hurried. People were staring and pointing, several of them bowing, others screaming thanks and love and their devotion to the Greater Good.

Apparently the sons of prison wardens were feared, in addition to being rich.

Once they finally got to the bank, George was relieved to be in such a familiar place. He couldn't wait to see the angry, brooding face of a goblin.

Unfortunately, the only goblin he saw was busy leading a man off to the vaults. Instead, a small, stooped boy made his way over to them, then bowed so low that he nearly stumbled forward.

George barely stifled a groan.

"Masters Fred and George, how wonderful it is to see you," the boy said in a scratchy, sniffling voice. When he glanced up, George swore that he recognized him, a second or third year Gryffindor. One of the Creevey brothers, maybe.

"Uh, we need money," Fred said unsurely. The boy nodded fiercely as he held out a bulging leather bag. Fred grabbed it.

"The oldest Master Weasley called ahead and it was prepared for you straightaway," the boy said proudly, like giving them their money on time was one of the greatest achievements of his life. "The goblins know how you don't like to wait. N- Not that there's not a problem with not liking to wait, b-but-"

"Shut it, Kid," George said. He couldn't stand to see the pitiful little boy looking at him so nervously, like he was afraid that Fred or he was going to blow up on him.

The boy clamped his mouth shut.

George wanted to thank him, to give him something, but he didn't have to be a genius to know that something like that just wasn't done, not to a Muggleborn in this world, anyway, so Fred and he hesitantly headed back outside without another word.

A moment later, a sluttish redheaded girl pranced up to them. Then George looked twice and recognized his own sister.

Instead of the nearly unrecognizable makeup that his sister usually wore, Ginny's eyes were outlined in shadowy black, with mascara slopped on so thick that he didn't know how she could blink. Her freckles had been transfigured away, leaving her with smooth ivory skin, save for the pink blush that she had applied to her cheeks.

Then there was her hair. The long, shimmering sheets of flaming red that she had loved so much were chopped off into layers that barely touched her shoulders, making her look at least sixteen. Her too tight skirt and flowing green low-cut shirt made her look even older.

But easily the most shocking thing was her expression. It didn't contain any of her usual fieriness. Instead, she wore a perfect mask of cool cockiness, like she was far above everything, even normal human emotions. And that was most definitely not his Ginny.

"Hello Fred, George," Ginny said, rather formally. George could see that they did not get along in this world.

"Ginevra," he said with a nod, just because it seemed so much more appropriate for this girl. He had known Bill called her Ginny, but he couldn't bring himself to do the same.

Apparently the other George had felt the same way, because Ginevra didn't seem to notice anything off.

Fred addressed her just as stiffly.

"Well, isn't this just a happy crowd?" Bill asked with a good-natured smile as he came sauntering up to join them.

"I would be happier if I could get my own slave," Ginny said so snottily that Pansy Parkinson surely would have been jealous.

"You know that you couldn't have it at school, and you already have a private attendant at home," Bill said soothingly.

"But they get one, and they are irresponsible fools."

"This argument is irrelevant, Ginny. You have your person attendants, and that is more than enough. If you keep arguing about this, people are going to get the wrong impression."

"But, Bill-," Ginny whined. George couldn't help but interrupt her.

"Look. The chit doesn't know how to be told no. She needs to learn to be denied, I think. A right spoiled brat she is."

"Truly, George. A stuck-up tart, that's what-"

Ginny spun around, her fiery hair blowing around her face, a wand raised in her right hand.

"Never insult my honor," she growled. Apparently she was going with the old pureblood views on abstinence, rather than whatever ones the other Fred and George's had gone by. "Especially not when you have such horrible, filthy habits yourselves. Don't think that I don't know exactly what-"

"Ginevra!" Bill snapped so savagely that George took a swift step backwards. "Do not talk to your brothers in that manner. Irresponsible fools or not, they are still above you, and you have no right to potentially humiliate them in public. Do I make myself clear?"

George gaped at his brother's outburst. People were obviously steering clear of them, terrified. He wondered what the results of Weasley family feuds usually were. He also wondered how many of them involved Ginny.

"Crystal," Ginny said brittily, as if she was only seconds away from losing her composure and slaughtering all of them.

"I thought so," Bill said, regaining his usual cheerfulness disorientingly quickly. "Now let's go pet shopping. That should cheer everybody up."

George didn't agree, but he still followed his oldest brother back down Diagon Alley until the paved street turned to dirt and the road forked off into what used to be Knockturn Alley, except instead of the small collection of ratty shops and dark merchants, there was only a large enclosed space, somewhat like what their prison would be if you replaced the barracks with dog cages.

When they entered the shop, George saw that dog cages were a generous term for what the slaves lived in. He didn't know anyone who would keep even a dog in the rickety metal pens in which sat prisoners, most of which could barely be considered human.

There was clearly no place for them to relieve themselves because feces were everywhere, and the smell of the entire place was horrible. The people themselves were so knee deep in filth that George was pretty sure that they had gotten used to it a long time ago. He couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the stench, even though it had to make him look like an arse.

As his eyes continued to scan the place, the look of disgust on his face deepened. Most of the prisoners, captives, whatever they were, seemed to be on the brink of death. They had swollen lips, sunken eyes, and huge cankerous sores all over their bodies. It seemed like hoarse coughs made up a constant background music, and every once in a while, horrible groaning noises joined them.

Then George noticed the other ones, the ones who didn't look completely hopeless, who still had fire in their eyes. As he followed Bill deeper into the prison-like building, he saw that those ones had fresh wounds as well, marks from dark curses and whips.

He remembered his brother saying that there had just been a raid. He supposed that those were the newly captured slaves. Seeing the fight that they still had, he wondered if they would get it beaten out of them like it had in the others.

"Oi, George, Fred! I thought I'd find you two here."

Literally every head in the place turned to stare at them, and George could feel that the captives knew who they were and clearly hated them with everything that they had. And was it his imagination, or were they saving their glares for him and Fred, not even looking at Bill and Ginny? Because it sure felt like it.

"He really needs to learn some respect," Bill muttered, and George followed his gaze to where a smirking Draco Malfoy was making his way towards them. George watched as Bill forced a tight smile and nodded his head towards Draco.

"A pleasure seeing you here," he said stiffly. Draco gave him an icy glare, then inclined his head towards Bill ever so slightly.

"An honor, Weasley," Draco said bitingly. It was clear that in this world, Bill was superior than Draco. It was also clear that Draco didn't like it one bit.

When Draco turned to Fred and George, however, his smile changed to something genuine. "I was hoping that I would run into you here. My old slave hadn't been cooperative, and I had to have him put down, so Father is allowing me to buy a new one, even if I cannot have it at school."

"That's great Draco," George choked out, the words 'put down' ringing in his ears.

"Yes, yes, of course. And what of you? I assume that you two are here for your own slaves, and will probably be wanting females," Draco said, his voice suggestive. George forced a laugh.

"We will definitely be looking at the selection," he said with a strangled cockiness that sounded horribly fake, even to him. Fortunately, Draco didn't seem to notice.

"Good, good. I was thinking that I should perhaps get a female this time as well. Of course I would never dream of doing anything with it," he said hastily, a superior look crossing his features that made George's stomach swirl with annoyance. "However, I would assume that a female would be easier to break, don't you?"

"Of course, much easier," Fred managed to say.

"That's what I was thinking as well. Now, shall we browse together? This past summer has been so horribly hectic, and I have so much to tell you." He led them off deeper into the filthy building, continuing to talk as they walked. "Lucius has been unbearable. I think that he treats his slaves better than me, honestly…."

George started tuning Draco out as they moved on, instead looking at the faces inside the cages. Every once in a while he'd stop, sure that he recognized the face of someone he knew, but then he would force himself on, telling himself that there was so much dirt that he wouldn't be able to tell anyway.

Then Fred's voice cut through Draco's talking, and George knew that even Draco couldn't have missed the tremor in his brother's voice.

"Now there's a beautiful one, eh?"

George's eyes flashed first to his brother's tortured face, and then into the cage in front of them.

He hardly stifled a gasp. A pair of chocolate brown eyes with unmistakable fire were glaring up at them. It was clear that this was one of the new slaves, fresh from the raid. Her face was caked with newly dried blood, her gaze was sharp, and she looked a good deal more healthy than most of the others.

Fred was telling the truth, actually. In comparison to the filthy, emancipated bodies around her, Hermione Granger was beautiful, the first time that George had ever considered her so.

"She is, aint she?" Draco asked, leaning forward as if to study her.

"You disgust me," she growled, seemingly out of nowhere. George jumped back, startled. He noticed that Draco did the same thing, but Fred had seemed to expect it. He stood his ground, took another step closer to her cage.

"You've got guts, talking to us like that. Do you have any idea who we are?"

"Oh, I've heard more than enough about the wonderful Weasley twins," spat Hermione. "I know exactly _what _you are."

"Then you know how foolish it is to speak to us like that."

"You don't scare me," she said, her eyes still shining.

Fred took another step forward, lowering his voice dangerously. George knew that he was acting, putting up a front so people wouldn't question his purchase of a slave who was so obviously hard to handle, but he still could barely stand to see the look of malice that his brother had on his face.

"Then I am going to steal you and do whatever it takes to make you fear me."

"So he is going to buy her," Draco said to George. "Not sure if that's a good idea. A freshly captured rebel? She's healthy, sure, but he's going to end up with a knife in his back."

"He'll be able to handle her," George said surely as Fred went over to a man in a uniform and started speaking to him, gesturing to Hermione's cage. George hadn't expected anything different. If Fred hadn't grabbed her, he would have. All of those weeks spent together during the summers, and all of her good-natured chastisement during the school years, had added up to a brotherly kind of affection for her that wouldn't have allowed him to leave her there.

Fred told George that he was going to go and pay for Hermione, then left, leaving him alone with Draco.

"I suppose that we should grab our own ones now, don't you?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, of course," George said, then dazedly returned to scanning the cages for a sign of someone else who he recognized, someone he could save.

He almost walked past the bundle of filthy blankets in the corner. He very easily could have, would have if the pile hadn't shifted just slightly on his way by the cage. George screeched to a halt.

"Is there anything even in there?" Draco asked, peering intently into the cage. George nodded absentmindedly, something inside of him telling him to take a closer look at the pile in the corner, to stop and see what it was.

"There is, I'm pretty sure," George said. Then, not knowing what else to do, he noisily kicked the bars of the cage. Draco laughed as the bundle groaned and weakly shifted in its place. "Look at me you piece of filth," he snapped, hating himself for what he was doing, but not knowing how else to confirm that the bundle was who his gut was telling him it was.

The blankets shifted. One of them fell back, revealing the prisoner's face.

George had to stare for a very long time before he convinced himself that it was really his best friend in the back of the cage. That those hollow black eyes that peered out of the gaunt, skeleton-like face were the same ones that had laughed with him and Fred hundreds of times. That the sores and gashes and rotting skin that riddled the creature's face were hiding Lee Jordan, and not some other unfortunate prisoner.

It was him, though. George could feel it. Even without his cocky, joking, demeanor or the dreadlocks that everyone recognized him by, he knew who it was. Underneath the filth and dirt and sores was his best friend other than Fred. He was sure of it.

"Now that," Draco sneered, "is disgusting."

"I want it," George said as emotionlessly as he could.

"_WHAT_?" Draco snapped, clearly surprised. "It's diseased, dying. It would be a waste of money."

"Imagine it," said George, coldly, distantly. "If I can heal it, save it, it would follow my every command without question. It would not turn against me like some slaves, and it would die for me if I wanted it to."

"If it survives in the first place," sneered Draco, although George could see that Malfoy was considering his point.

"It will," he said with as much confidence as he could. Then he mirrored Fred's logical actions and found a person wearing a dark blue uniform with a fancy logo on it.

"What can I do for you, Master Weasley?" the man asked with a slight bow. George was still amazed at how well-known his family was. He just wasn't used to it.

"I need you to get a slave for me," George said.

"No problem, Master," the man said politely, then followed George to Lee's cage.

When George gestured to Lee's cage, the employee looked at him incredulously.

"Him?"

"Yes," George answered. "I want him."

"Surely you have seen the new slaves, freshly caught from the raid. They are much healthier, and-"

"I want _him_," George growled. "Now, if you are too stupid to understand that, then I will tell my father about it, and he will come down here and make things very, very clear for you."

"Oh, n-n-no, I understand, Master Weasley. I- I'll get him right away, Sir. I didn't mean anything by what I said."

"I didn't think you did," George said smugly. He heard Malfoy laugh from behind him and glanced back at him, feeling slightly ill when he saw how impressed the younger blonde was.

George did his best to ignore Draco and watched as the worker dug out his wand and murmured a complicated spell on Lee's cage. The door popped open, and Lee raised his head weakly, then lowered it, like he was past caring about what happened to him.

"Git up, Boy," the worker spat. Lee groaned and twitched, but it was as if he had lost the ability to move. The worker turned to look at George. "I aint touching him."

"And you expect me to?" he snapped. George would have gone in there to help Lee if he could have, but he knew that nothing would break the illusion he was holding up faster than going into a filthy cage and lugging out a diseased slave.

"N-no, I-I-"

"Are you a Muggle, you blubbering fool?" George asked, then whipped out his wand, pointed it at Lee, and muttered, "_Mobilicorpus_."

Lee's body was lifted gently off the ground, his blankets falling off of him, revealing the most grossly disfigured body that George had ever seen. All that he was wearing was a cheap pair of gray shorts, and those were so stained through with excrement that George could see it had been weeks since he had been strong enough even to get away from his own waste. His arms hung limply from his sides, looking like little more than bones. One of his legs was coathanger thin as well, but the other one hung from his body like a sack of meat, all of the bones hexed out of it. Even so, it was still grossly thin, just a shriveled piece of skin. The only part of him that didn't appear to be caving in on himself was his stomach, which was grossly bloated from worms.

Even more disgusting, however, was whatever disease had spread across his body. Every inch of his friend's smooth chocolate-colored skin was now covered in disgusting sores the size of sickles, deep gashes that were green with infection, and bites from the hundreds of insects that swarmed around in the cages.

George had to struggle not to throw up. Draco covered his mouth and hurried away. Lee's eyes rolled back into his head, even the little movent causing enough pain to make him pass out.

"You sure you want him?" the worker dared to ask George again. His words came out in gasps, like he was being careful not to open his mouth too wide. "His whole family died months ago. He's days from death himself."

"I want him," George repeated, all of the force gone from his voice.

"Alright. We'll get him cleaned up and shipped to your house promptly. Can't guarantee that he'll live long, though."

"I understand," George said. The other man raised his wand and took Lee from him, floating him off to some other room. George walked around until he found his brother, who was standing with an animatedly chattering Bill and a haughty looking Ginny.

"You ready?" Bill asked when he caught sight of George.

"Yeah, I am," George answered weakly.

"Good. You two can acquaint yourselves with your slaves later. For now let's pick up the rest of your school things. Preferably before the young Malfoy finishes selecting his slave."

"Hey," George protested, not because he wanted to, but because something told him that Malfoy was one of his and Fred's best friends in this world.

"We are not waiting for him," Bill said firmly, then headed for the door. "Now hurry up. Father wants me to look over some matters in the prison this afternoon."

Fred and George trailed after him, just far enough behind that George was able to lean over to his twin and whisper, "I got Lee," without worrying about Bill hearing.

Fred raised his eyebrows, his eyes asking about their old friend. George simply shook his head, then urged his brother on. The sooner they were done, the sooner that he could help Lee.

**Sorry that was so long, but I wanted to get them settled into their new world so that they could get started at Hogwarts next chapter. I hope that it didn't drag too much, but I had to get a basic picture of this new world painted, although I assure you that there are about a million other secrets that I haven't even touched on yet.**

**Other than that note, thanks for the reviews, I'll update as much as I can, and I hope to hear more from everyone after this chapter. **

**Thank You**

**~bballgirl32~ **


	3. If Everyone Cared

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_**If everyone cared and nobody cried**_

_**If everyone loved and nobody lied**_

_**If everyone shared and swallowed their pride**_

_**Then we'd see the day when nobody died**_

**_Nickelback- If Everyone Cared_**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_  
><strong>

Fred couldn't help but fidgeting just slightly as Bill fished around in his moleskin pouch for their portkey. He wished that they could just apparate, or even Floo, but it didn't take a genius to know that their house would be heavily protected. No doubt that portkey was the only way to get there.

It actually would have been a pretty quick way to get there as well, if Bill wasn't leisurely sifting through his pouch like they had all the time in the world. Because honestly, they didn't. Fred knew that Lee had to be close to death judging by the look on his twin's face. Hermione worried him, too, but that was just because he didn't put it past her to get herself into trouble and have one of his family members kill her on the spot. In all honesty, it wouldn't surprise him if he came home to find that one of the brother's had brutally murdered her.

"Ah, here we go," Bill finally said. Fred exhaled in relief, and he noticed George do the same. Then they all reached out and touched the old stuffed hippogriff. Bill muttered something, maybe activating it so it didn't have to leave at a certain time, and then he was jerked forward.

When he landed, Fred was in the same clear, hilly terrain as the prison was. Only this time there was an enormous manor sprawled out in front of him. The whole thing was at least five stories of silvery stone and gleaming scarlet flags. It was one of the biggest buildings that he had ever seen, save for Hogwarts, and if he was being honest with himself, its regality was even more impressive than his school.

He caught himself starting to gawk at the wealth of the building and shook his head. There were more important things to do than gape at his own house. Without giving the building another glance, he strode past Bill and through the door, feeling George trail closely behind.

Their younger brother met them almost immediately. Fred felt his eyes widen in surprise as he took in his little brother. The skinny, gangly Ron was gone, replaced by a leanly built boy who looked a heck of a lot like he belonged on an actual Quidditch team. There was something else about him, though, something _familiar_. He didn't have the same cruel eyes or cocky demeanor as Ginny or Bill. He still looked like their brother.

"Fred, George," Ron said. "Your slaves are in the dungeons, but Mum says that since they're yours, you deserve to see them first. After you're done, though, can I-"

"Why don't you come with us, Ron?" Fred asked, since he had no idea where in the hell the dungeons were. Down, obviously, but the house was so huge that he knew he would get lost very quickly without help.

"What are you planning, George?"

"Fred," Fred corrected absently, then added, "And we aren't planning anything. This is just a big moment, and we honestly want to share it with our favorite brother."

"Favorite brother?" Ron scoffed. "I'm not stupid."

"Okay, maybe you aren't our favorite brother," George said, "But do you know how much energy it would take to go to the dungeons, have our fun, and then drag our arses back up here to get you?"

Ron thought about it, then nodded, satisfied.

"Alright. I'll come with you. But if you try anything…"

"We won't. Now come on, Ronald," George prodded.

That was all it took for Ron to started hurrying through the house, Fred and George trailing closely behind.

"Just make sure that you don't touch them, Ronald," George said as they walked. "The female will cut your head off, and the male will give you a thousand diseases so horrible that you would want to beg for death."

"Obviously," Ron said with a roll of his eyes. "Although Mum is pissed at you for picking out such a sickly slave. A diseased pile of shit, she called it. You know that she's not going to waste money on a healer for that, right?"

"I realize that," Fred said.

"So what, you just got it to watch it die?"

"Heavens no, Ronald. We're going to save it," replied George.

Ron grunted amusedly as he lit his wand and started down a set of steep stone steps. Fred figured that they were far enough above the law that underage magic didn't really matter. If there were even any age restrictions on magic in this world. Not like it effected him anyway. Without another though, he lit his own wand.

The lower they got, the more that the darkness seemed to eat away at the light coming from their wands. After only fifteen or twenty feet, Fred had to put a hand on a cold, damp wall to keep himself from tumbling forward into the inky blackness.

"Merlin," Ron said with a huff after a while. "I forgot how far down the dungeons were. This is bloody creepy, don't you think?"

"Coward," said George.

"Wimp," added Fred, although he was feeling the same way. The further down they went, the more uncomfortably his gut twisted. There was something about the dungeons that felt like death, and he wondered if they wouldn't find more than just their two slaves down there.

Then, finally, Ron came to a stop in front of a dark oak door. He put his palm against the wood.

In front of him, the door opened with an ominous click.

Ron warily ventured forward, and Fred hesitantly followed after him, George trailing behind them.

When they first walked through the door, Fred's spine tingled. The place was cold and dark, and the smell of decay was horrible. His hands started shaking as his imagined the worst.

Then Ron muttered a spell under his breath, and the entire place filled with a disgustingly bright light. Fred squeezed his eyes shut for a moment until they adjusted to the inappropriately cheerful brightness, then tore them open.

He almost sighed in relief. There were no giant torture machines, no dozens of cells filled with prisoners, no skeletons chained to the walls. Of course not. Any actual prisoners would be transferred to the prisons or sold to slavery. The dungeons were just a convenience, a place to hold new, untrained slaves, or maybe temporary prisoners if their father wanted information.

Now, thankfully, the only two occupants were Hermione in one cage, and…

Fred's eyes scoured the half dozen cells, searching for his old friend, but there was no Lee to be found.

Then he saw George move forward and put his hands on the bars of one of the cells. There was nothing but a filthy pile of rags in one corner.

That's when Fred realized with a jolt that it was Lee in the corner, that-

"Ronald, go back upstairs and tell Mum to get a healer or something. That damn moron is going to die if someone doesn't do something about it," Fred said, panic lacing his voice.

"I already told you, she's not going to bother sending a healer down here, oh brother-mine."

Fred clenched his teeth, then stepped towards his brother.

"Well, then. Why don't you help us? I do not want my brother's slave to die the day that we get it."

"Help you, I'm not your-"

Fred raised his wand. He hated threatening Ron, but he knew that if the other Fred had been as terrible as he expected, the threat would get his younger brother into action.

"Okay, okay. What do you need?"

"Skele-grow, antibacterial potions, um, and a cleansing potion," George listed, still peering at Lee. Fred knew that those potions would probably only treat a small amount of Lee's problems, but at least it would make a good start.

"Alright, got it," Ron said, then started for the stairs. Fred caught his arm.

"Nothing funny, okay?" Fred growled as threateningly as he could.

"Of course, Fred. Nothing funny."

Then Ron was gone and Fred and George were left alone.

"Why can't you just let him die?"

Fred whirled around, nearly slipping on the damp floor. He'd forgotten about Hermione.

"Because letting him die would be a waste of money," he answered tonelessly. He was planning on trying to get her to listen to the truth later on, but he knew that she wouldn't believe him yet.

"Don't you have enough for another slave?" she asked bitingly.

"I want this one," George answered as he looked into the cell, helplessly trying to pull it open. Fred faced his brother, switching his attention from Hermione to the locked door.

"Try alohamora," he suggested. It wasn't like the prisoners would have wands to get out, and on the very slim chance that someone with a wand wanted to break in to help them, Fred had a feeling that they wouldn't make it anywhere near the dungeons. There was no reason to have anything more than a simple locking spell on the cell doors.

He was right. As soon as George said the spell, the door to Lee's cell popped open. George ran inside, losing any pretense of not caring. Fred quickly followed, hanging back warily as George peeled the cloths off of Lee, revealing a grotesquely cursed leg, diseased skin, and the most desolate eyes that Fred had ever seen.

"Where in the hell do we start?" George asked no one in particular.

Fred took a shaky breath, then managed to choke out, "We should clean him."

"Clean. Right," George said. He paused for a moment, considering which spell to use, then waved his wand and said, "_Aguamenti._"

A steady stream of water flowed out from George's wand and over Lee's filth-covered back, running off of him in murky tendrils. George guided the water down to Lee's toes, and then back up, taking extra care to clean the murk and grime out of his frizzy hair.

As the mud and dirt and who knows what else was washed off of Lee's body, his sores and gashes became considerably easier to see, shining from crimson to an acidic green in the too bright light. Even the odor worsened as the stink of infection was finally able to escape from underneath the stifling grime.

Fred could hardly keep himself from throwing up.

"Should I use scourgify, too?" George asked him once Lee was completely rinsed off.

"I wouldn't," answered Fred, his voice constricted with the horrifying smell. "I'm not sure how it'd react to those ulcers."

"Then what else am I supposed to-"

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps thumping down the stares. For a moment Fred was nervous, wondering if Ron had told on them, but then the youngest Weasley boy arrived, his arms filled with bottles of potions and a scowl on his face.

"Here are your potions, _brother._" He spat the last word, using the same tone that Bill had used when talking about Mudbloods. Fred shivered.

"Thank you. Now, would you care to help us?"

They locked eyes, brown against blue. For a moment Fred thought that Ron would stomp off and start screaming like he would have in their world.

In this world, however, apparently having Fred Weasley against you was worse than touching a diseased Mudblood, because Ron stepped forward and made his way into the cell with the potions still in his arms.

Fred followed him, and the three brothers spent the next hour working over Lee's still unmoving body. Ron forced potion after potion down the slave's throat as Fred and George took turns using any spell that they could think of to help sew up the gashes and get the sores into reasonable condition.

By the time that they were finished, all of the gashes that had plagued his skin were sealed, and the sores had scabbed over following a thorough dowsing in antibiotic potion. He was probably uglier than before, but at least he no longer appeared to be at death's door. A little bit of life had even seeped into his demeanor, the potions that he had ingested apparently already taking effect. Even the bones in his right leg were starting to regrow, giving it the appearance of a limb rather than a hunk of meat.

"It's still disgusting," Ron sneered.

"It won't die, though, and that was the whole point of this," George argued.

Lee groaned. Fred ignored it. He'd been fighting for consciousness the past twenty minutes, but Fred wasn't going to risk using any spells to wake him up. With the skele-grow working its way through his system, he was better off unconscious.

"I don't see what the big deal is, anyway," Ron said. "I would've just gotten a healthier slave."

George shook his head and looked intently at Ron.

"Have you ever just felt something… weird?" George asked. "Like you know that you're supposed to do something, even if it's stupid?"

Ron's eyes widened dramatically and for a moment he looked completely terrified. Then he seemed to realize that George was being honest, and he relaxed slightly. Fred raised an eyebrow at his youngest brother, wondering what _that _could have been about.

"Yeah," Ron said, his voice not containing any of the bitterness that it had after Fred had asked for his help. "I have."

"Well, that's why I picked him. It was like I was just supposed to pick this thing, no matter how disgusting and filthy it was. Something good is going to come out of it."

"Well, he'd better hope so," Ron muttered. Then he pushed himself off the floor and left.

Fred had a million things that he wanted to say, and he could see that George did too, but he was so tired, so emotionally drained, that he just leaned back against the wall of Lee's cage and close his eyes. The only noise was Lee's ragged breathing. The entire thing was really kind of peaceful, especially now that Lee seemed to be so much better off.

Then Hermione must've realized how much he was enjoying the quiet, because she started pacing back and forth, her feet echoing loudly across the stone floor.

Fred sighed and tore his eyes open. George was watching Lee, but there was a smile on his face, and Fred knew that he thought Hermione was amusing. Fred had to admit that he'd always appreciated her cheek.

"You know, if you keep pacing like that, you'll wear yourself out," he told her. She glared at him.

"Good. Then I'll drop dead, and I won't have to deal with you."

Merlin, she sounded so much like the other Hermione. For a moment, he could almost imagine that it was last year again, that she was scolding him and George for their pranks…. Only this time she wasn't bickering. She was serious.

He forced himself to act as if she were joking.

"You know you can't resist me," he teased. He was fully aware of his history, of how horribly wrong she could take that, but he didn't care. He wanted her to know _him, _to learn to trust him so that he could trust her with the truth. Even if it meant a rocky start, she'd eventually get him. It'd be just like last year at Hogwarts, the way that he could see him growing on her. That'd happen all over again. It just had to.

She growled. Literally growled. Clearly his idea would take some time.

"You are the most vile, filthy, disgusting person I have ever been unfortunate enough to meet. Can't resist you? I assure you, Fred Weasley, that I will do everything in my power to resist you and your filthy brother until you kill me for it."

Fred wasn't sure what happened, but the moment that those words sunk in, he felt an anger so powerful flash through him that he instinctively leapt to his feet. Thoughts that weren't his fueled his movements as he strode towards her. _How can a filthy Mudblood speak to me in such a way? She needs to learn her place. I will make her regret this. _

Then, just as fast as it had come, the anger was gone and he crumpled to the ground right in front of her cell. His heart was thudding against his ribcage, and it felt like someone had taken to pounding his head with a jackhammer.

"Fred," he heard George say worriedly. His twins footsteps echoed across the floor as he hurried to his brother.

"I- I'm fine, George," Fred said in the strongest voice he could muster, even though he was not fine at all.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, I just got a little dizzy," he muttered. Then he looked at Hermione, forced himself to be cheery. "And Girl, you'll be sorely disappointed if you expect us to kill you. You're going to be living with me for a very, very long time."

"Screw you." He felt another flash of inexplicable anger, but he bit it back.

"Feel free."

She started yelling at him and calling him a very long string of names that didn't sound right coming out of Hermione Granger's mouth, but she was interrupted by Molly Weasley's voice calling them to get upstairs for supper.

"Good-bye, Love," Fred told Hermione with a smirk. Then he got uneasily to his feet and waited as George looked Lee over one more time so they could leave together.

After their lengthy ascent up the stairs, the twins were met with a hallway branching out in two separate directions, about a dozen doors lining each way they could take. Fred couldn't even remember which one they had come through to get there.

"If you come to a fork in the road, pick it up," George muttered under his breath. Fred laughed a little.

"I have a better idea." Then he took a deep breath and shouted, "RON!" at the top of his lungs.

They waited thirty seconds. A minute. No brother showed up.

Then, just as Fred was considering sending out another shout, his brother poked his red head through the door.

"What?" he asked, slightly irritable again. There was no trace of the softness he had shown in the dungeons.

"I figured that you would be interested in the state of our newest slaves, and I had hoped to entertain you with the information on the way to supper," Fred said genially.

"As interesting as that sounds, shouldn't you change first? You're filthy. Mum would kill you if you showed up like that."

For a moment Fred was worried, but then he saw George smile.

"You worry to much, dear brother. We weren't given the brains of the family for nothing." Then George brandished his wand, pointed it at Fred, and said, "Scourgify." Fred did the same thing for George, and in an instant, their robes were sparkling clean.

Ron muttered something unintelligible, but did prod Fred about the slaves.

"Well, my wonderful woman is deliciously feisty. Why, you should have heard how she was going on about how disgusting I am. It's clear that she's just playing hard to get."

"Clearly," Ron said sarcastically. "But as interested as I am in your sex toy, I am more eager to know if the one who I dirtied myself for is going to survive."

"It looks like it," George answered. "He'll be a good one, too."

"He will be, won't he?" Ron questioned. "Loyal? He'll probably do whatever you ask."

Fred gave his brother another look. There was something skeptical in Ron's voice, like he was questioning George's motives.

"Yes, he probably would," George said dismissively, but he was clearly as curious as Fred was. The two of them shared a glance, but at that moment they noticed the voices that were coming from the door up ahead of them. They could discuss it later.

Fred stood up straighter and ran a hand nervously through his shaggy red hair, and then Ron had opened the door and they all stepped into the most brilliant dining room that Fred had ever seen.

A diamond chandelier that had to have cost a fortune was hanging above an ornate cherry table. The plates and silverware all looked so delicate that he was shocked that they didn't shatter the moment that they were touched, and each piece had to cost at least ten galleons.

The whole thing was so rich, so elegant, so non-Weasliesh that he felt a moment of nausea. Then he shook his head and forced himself forward. He had handled Lee, he could handle this.

He took in the faces of the present family members as he sat. Bill and Ginny were both there. Percy sat next to Ginny, his back so straight that it looked like he had a stick shoved up his arse, and a sickeningly smarmy smile on his face. Well, one thing hadn't changed. That brother was still a stuck-up git.

His mother was there, too, about fifty pounds lighter, her face magically altered to perfection. The hominess that had always radiated off of her was replaced by a cold kind of ruthlessness that scared him. If she was like that, he didn't want to know what his father was like.

Thankfully, Arthur Weasley, along with Charlie, was absent.

Although after a while, Fred wished that his dragon-taming brother was there. He would have given an arm and a leg for some cheerful conversation. He had actually made a stab or two himself, but Molly's presence made any joking or cheerfulness or talking at all impossible. The whole meal was completely silent, save for at the very end when Molly picked up a dark blue crystal bell and rang it.

In an instant, an all too familiar man was in front of them. Fred almost spit his water out of his nose.

"We are finished, Snape," she said. Then Professor Snape walked around the table and picked up each of the dishes individually. Fred stared at him the entire time, not able to believe that his hated teacher was now a Weasley family slave.

And honestly, the fact that the head of Slytherin wasn't a pureblood was shocking enough to make him stare. As it was, he had plenty more reasons to stare than that. Snape still had his distinct hooked nose, but his greasy hair had been hacked off until it wasn't more than a few inches long. His face, which had been pale before, was now ghost white, and he was much thinner than before.

"Is that everything, madam?" Snape asked, his cryptic voice oozing with thousands of unsaid curses.

"No, not quite," Molly said. "You are also to go down to the dungeons and provide the usual nourishment for the new slaves. If I find that you have given them more, I will have your head."

Fred cleared his throat.

"Mother?" he asked nervously. She looked at him with beady brown eyes.

"What is it now?"

"Well, you see, they aren't in the best of condition, and I'm sure you know what a waste of money it would be if they died. They will need a small bit of extra nourishment, just for tonight."

Molly Weasley glared daggers at her son, and Fred was sure that she was just going to kill him right then and there. Then she laughed.

"Ah, I see how worried you are about your little doll. Yes, I can understand why you would prefer that she was fit. And I suppose that George's… thing would be more convenient alive. Ah, you are truly a genius, my son. I see myself in you." Fred let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as Molly turned to Snape and said, "You heard him. You may give them a small amount extra."

Then Snape disappeared with another wave of the little blue bell, and Molly stood up.

"A wonderful meal, was it not?" she asked. Everyone hastily replied in emphatic agreement, and she smiled. "Yes, I thought so as well. Now, I suppose that you younger ones should finish packing for school. Ah, to believe that another year of Hogwarts is already starting." She shook her head affectionately. "Well, off with you, then. It would be terrible for our image if we would have to rush."

Ginny and Ron then left, and Fred and George quickly followed, figuring that the sooner they were out of their mother's sight, the better.

Once they were out of the dining room, however, they had no idea where to go, and no way to ask for help. Ron and Ginny were already starting off in opposite directions, and Fred and George just watched helplessly as they left the two of them alone. That's when Fred realized that they were kind of screwed.

"Wow. This is just great," Fred said out loud.

"Now this is interesting. What could possibly be troubling the two great Weasley twins?" a voice asked from behind them. Fred and George both whirled around, and they were met with a very intimidating Severus Snape.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the dungeons?" Fred asked automatically.

Snape raised the corner of his lip into a sneer.

"How long could it possibly take me to dump food in a couple of cells?" _Huh, _Fred thought, _he can apparate around a house with wards. I wonder if all slaves can do that. _

"Right, well…" George said nervously.

"We're lost," Fred finished. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"And how can it be that you are lost in your own home?"

"Show us our room, don't ask questions, and don't tell anyone anything," George said stiffly. "If you don't listen, then we will tell our mother."

If possible, Snape's face paled even more, despite his efforts to remain calm.

"If you insist, Master Weasley," he said, his voice filled with enough venom that it made Fred cringe. Then he started walking.

Fred and George followed him through the grand house, taking in every little detail that they could in an attempt to remember the way at least vaguely. It was no use, however. There were too many hallways, too many doors, and Fred knew that any exploration attempts would only serve to get them hopelessly lost.

Then, finally, Snape stopped in front of one of the doors, made an elaborate bow that was clearly sarcastic, and disappeared. Fred promised that if they ever came back to the house, he would remember to thank the old git.

George opened the door and Fred followed him in, his eyes surveying the room. There was nothing much worth noting, other than it was big, with two enormous beds, and looked so impeccably clean that it was as if no one had lived in it. It was like a shrine.

Then Fred saw the bags in the corner, the fruits of their shopping earlier that day, all enlarged again and set out so that everything was easy to see. Beside the bags were two trunks that looked as expensive as the Burrow. Fred sighed, then started throwing random things into his trunk, somewhat impressed when he noticed that everything he put in was disappearing. Although he wasn't happy with how they obtained their wealth, not having to cram everything in a suitcase made his life a million times easier, and he was nearly packed within a minute.

That's when he picked up the blue velvet box with his initials printed on top of it in silver. He knew that he hadn't bought anything that came in a box like that.

He opened it unsurely, then drew in a quick breath when he saw what it was.

In the box, sitting on a delicate white pillow, was a shining red crystal bell, exactly like his mother's blue one. George saw, then quickly opened the identical box with his initials on it. His bell was faded green, and it was cracked in several places. It was only a couple of seconds before Fred realized exactly what those bells were for.

"Instant, immediate obedience," George muttered. "They're forced to come whenever they're called, wherever they are. No chance to escape. And I bet if we break the bell…"

"We kill them," Fred finished with a shiver. He looked at the red bell in the box. Was Hermione's life really in his hands? How fragile were the bells? And how in the hell could he get them deactivated?

These questions plagued him as he finished packing his things, and they continued to gnaw at him as he tossed and turned in his too big bed later that night.

Then, finally he managed to duck between the questions and the worries to snatch away a few precious hours of sleep.


	4. Crazy Train

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_I've listened to preachers _**

**_I've listened to fools_**

**_I've watched all the dropouts_**

**_Who make their own rules_**

**_One person conditioned to rule and control _**

**_The media sells it and you live the role_**

**_Mental wounds still screaming_**

**_Driving me insane _**

**_I'm going off the rails on a crazy train_**

**_I'm going off the rails on a crazy train_**

**_Ozzy Osbourne- Crazy Train_**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

"Ugh, Fred, it's too early," George muttered when he felt someone roughly shake him awake. He wasn't ready to get up yet, especially not after the nightmare he'd had the night before. It had been terrifying, but now he could just forget about it…

"I am not your brother, Master Weasley, and I am waking you on your mother's orders, so it would do you good _not_ to complain," an all too familiar voice droned. It wasn't Fred's.

George jolted up as though he'd been shocked, his eyes flying open and taking in his surroundings. The too big bed, the enormous room, Fred sitting up in his bed, shaking his head sadly.

"Bloody hell, it _wasn't _a dream," he cursed under his breath. Then he looked up at Snape. "Sorry, sorry. I'm out of it."

"Of course, Master Weasley," Snape said, his dark eyes drilling into George.

Then he bowed to each of them and left.

Fred and George both stayed sitting, clueless.

"Er, now what?" George asked after a moment. Fred looked around the room.

"Well, there're two doors other than the exit. Hopefully a closet and a bathroom. So we get ready, and then we apparate to the dining room and hope there are people eating so we can try to get some kind of idea of what in the hell we're supposed to be doing."

Since George could think of nothing else, he went with Fred's plan. The doors did lead to a bathroom with a tub the size of a small pool, and a closet bigger than their old bedroom. George bathed first, then slipped into gold-trimmed robes.

Fred was ready ten minutes later, and the twins shoved their bells in their pockets, then apparated to the room where they had dined the night before. Molly, Ron, and Percy were all sitting around the table. Bill and Ginny were nowhere in sight.

George hesitated for a moment, then took a seat next to Percy. Fred sat next to him. Molly rang her little bell, and Snape appeared with two food-filled plates. Their old potions master set their food in front of them, bowed regally, and apparated away.

The room became awkwardly quiet. George managed to force a few bites of egg down, but he was too sick to eat any more than that. He was completely lost. Trivial little things, things that anyone who had lived in this world would know, worried him. He didn't know what time to leave, where to go, what to do with his trunk, or who he was supposed to sit with. The thought of blindly feeling his way through the entire day scared him senseless.

His head was just about ready to explode when Ginny popped into the room. Her hair was elegantly curled, her face painted with makeup, and the skirt of her school uniform a half a foot shorter than regulation.

"You look wonderful, my dear," Molly said, speaking for the first time that morning. Ginny positively beamed. George fought the urge to say that she looked like a complete whore.

"Thank you, Mother," Ginny said with a cotton-candy sweet smile.

That was as far as the breakfast conversation went. Once everyone was finished, an unfamiliar slave appeared to clean the dishes, Ginny went to the door and started whining that they had to leave immediately because she just _had _to catch up with Flora Carrow, Ron revealed that he'd forgotten to pack his trunk and ran to shove everything in it at the last minute, and Percy announced that he had to depart for the second Nurmengard branch at once. That left Fred and George alone with Molly.

"What're you still doing here?" she asked. They looked at each other in panic. Molly noticed the look and raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Great. What're you two brats planning _now_?"

"Nothing, Mother," George said quickly, doing his best to plaster an innocent look on his face.

"He's serious. Nothing at all. We're just not quite ready to move yet," Fred added.

She fixed them with a look reminiscent of the one that their own mother had after they'd planted dung bombs under Aunt Muriel's chair.

"Not ready to move," she scoffed. "Well, you had better get ready quickly. Your sister is already ready to go."

"So are we," Fred protested.

"Completely packed?" she asked skeptically. The twins nodded furiously. "And you have not forgotten your bells?" They shook their heads. Molly looked surprised. Maybe impressed. "Well, that is a first. I will send Severus to retrieve your things. Go wait with Ginny at the door. As soon as your _brother _is finished packing, we shall go."

George relaxed. Apparently it wasn't uncommon for the other twins to be unorganized and erratic, so there was lesser chance that their confusion would be noted.

"Yes, Mother," Fred said, then got up and pushed his chair in. George followed behind him, and they apparated to the front door.

Ginny started when she saw them, but regained her composure quickly.

"Are you really so lazy as to have to apparate wherever you go?" she asked them tiredly.

"No, but this house is just so big and complicated that we would get lost if we didn't," George said jokingly, even though he was completely serious. Ginny fixed them with a glare.

"I cannot believe how immature the two of you are. Do you ever take anything seriously?"

"We'll start acting serious the second that you get that stick out of your arse and laugh for once," Fred replied. Ginny sputtered for a moment, then opened her mouth, no doubt to cuss them out, but was interrupted by Ron barging through the door.

George watched as their brother stiffened upon taking the three of them in. The youngest Weasley brother ran a hand through his tousled hair, then looked each of them in the eyes defiantly, as if he were daring them to comment on his late arrival.

Fred and George kept their mouths shut, but Ginny snorted harshly.

"I might as well be living with a family of Mudbloods, the way the three of you act," she said haughtily, then proceeded to step as far away from them as the small foyer would allow.

"She is such a prat," Fred muttered. "It's unbelievable."

Ron laughed nervously, but George chuckled outright, earning him another fierce glare from Ginny. Without thinking about it, he sent her his most infuriating smirk. It was completely natural, something that he simply _did_.

So why was Fred sending him such a strange look? And since when did he start throwing around Slytherin smirks? He shook the problem away as Molly entered the room. He needed to focus on everyone else so he knew what to do next.

"You are all ready. How… surprising. Now, let us be off," she said. Ginny proceeded to lead the family out the door.

George was shocked to see an elaborate black carriage waiting for them outside. A rather small black dragon with crimson spikes streaking down its back stood proudly in front of it, smoke puffing from its nostrils with every breath.

He shook his head in awe as he followed Ginny into the carriage. Even if he would give anything to be poor again, there were some things about having money that he did like. Honestly, a dragon-pulled carriage? That was bloody awesome.

"When we get back," Fred whispered to George as he took a seat beside him, "we are so getting one of these things."

"The dragon or the carriage?" George asked, taking in the dragon-skin seats and onyx walls that surrounded them.

"Both," Fred answered cheerfully as they jerked into the air.

For a few moments it was quiet, and then Ginny started talking with their mother about some stupid Halloween dance, and their brainless chatter on dresses and boys filled the carriage until it touched down fifteen minutes later.

George had expected something like the old King's Cross station, filled with chattering people, laughing families. Instead, only faint whispers of conversation reached his ears as he stepped out of the carriage.

Then he figured out why. Over two hundred people were all facing the enormous carriage. Some of them, slaves perhaps, were kneeling. Others had their heads inclined respectfully. Teenage girls and younger women curtseyed with flirtatious smiles and mischievous eyes. Younger girls huddled together, pointing and giggling. Parents scolded young sons for trying to get closer to the dragon, while they themselves watched the Weasleys with reverent but careful eyes.

Looking past all of the people, George saw that the station itself was dramatically different as well. There were no hidden barriers, no Platform 9 ¾. Just the Hogwarts Express, waiting for them in plain sight. Of course, there would be no use to hide magic any longer.

"You may return to your own business," Molly called out, and light conversation restarted, but everyone still had one eye on the Weasley family.

Ginny immediately left them to climb onto the train. Ron hurried over to where a somewhat familiar looking boy was speaking rather formally to his parents. George stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out who he was. Then the boy smiled at Ron, and it clicked. Neville Longbottom. Only he was at least thirty pounds lighter, and had an expression of ignorant self-worth that rivalled Marcus Flint.

George turned to point out his find to Fred, but then a pair of arms were around his waist.

"Ooh, Georgie, it's been such a long summer without you!"

He whirled around, sending the girl flying backwards, but reflexively catching her before she could fall. Then he saw who it was and nearly stumbled backwards in his haste to let her go.

Pansy Parkinson's eyes grew to the size of saucers at about the same moment that George realized that Pansy must be his… girlfriend. The thought made him shiver.

He opened his mouth to apologize, then remembered exactly who he was. Apologizing wouldn't be very good for maintaining his image.

"Merlin, Pansy. I'll kill you if you ever sneak up on me like that again," he said as harshly as he could manage, internally cringing when he saw her sneak back.

"I-I'm sorry," she said with a trembling lower lip. "I just missed you."

He wished he could simply melt into a puddle right then and there. Instead he forced a smirk and said, "Well, control yourself," he said. Then, just because she kind of looked like a kicked puppy and he was too soft for his own good, he leaned forward and kissed her for just a moment. Her lips were sticky, smothered in lipstick. Disgusting. "Got that, Angel?"

Pansy nodded.

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry that I caused a scene," she said.

"Well, just refrain from doing it again," he ordered, then turned away as he tried to inconspicuously get rid of the coating of lipstick he'd just received.

"Of course, Georgie," she said, then stepped forward and nuzzled against him. He stiffened, but gingerly put an arm around her shoulder. She smiled up at him. Huh. She was kind of cute. Annoying, yeah, but her face was really sweet. As long as she kept her mouth shut.

"Coming George, Pansy?" Fred asked. "We should be getting on the train."

"Oh, yes. Of course," Pansy said. "I'm sure that Daphne should already be there. Ooh, and Angelina. I haven't seen her in forever. She spent the summer in France, you know…."

Pansy continued to blabber on, but George wasn't really listening. He was still wondering about the mention of Angelina. He hadn't really thought about Draco's clear friendship with the twins before, but now that he did, it was odd. And Pansy was clearly excited to see him, too. Were there even houses anymore, or was it just Hogwarts? If there were still houses, there surely wasn't any house rivalries. Unless, of course, he was in Slytherin.

But no, that wouldn't make sense. Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor, so if anything, that would be the top house. He shook his head and led Pansy towards the Hogwarts Express. He would get answers to those questions soon enough. For now, he just had to work on acting like the old George.

Thankfully, it didn't seem like Pansy expected much conversation out of him. She didn't pause her incessant chatter until she found a carriage with two other girls sitting inside. She beamed, then ducked under George's arm and enveloped each girl in an enthusiastic hug. One of the girls… Angelina, doted on her, complimenting her new robes and saying how much that she missed her. The other one, Daphne, gave her a friendly greeting but didn't say anything else.

Once their little powwow was finished, Angelina smiled up at Fred and George, who were hesitating in the doorway.

"Nice to see you two again. How were your summers?"

Fred threw an easy smirk on his face.

"Well, we did just get our new slaves yesterday," he said as he took a seat next to Angelina. George slunk into the compartment after them, taking his place next to Pansy. She curled up next to him, and he fought the urge to be sick.

"Wow," Pansy said with wide eyes. "I forgot about that. What are they like?"

George shrugged.

"Mine hasn't woken up yet. It was a bitch to take care of, sick as a dog and everything, but I figured that it'd be more loyal to me if I saved its life. Didn't want a traitorous slave." He laughed harshly. "Draco's last one ended up getting put down. It's like they're getting more and more hard to control these days, so I took extra precautions."

"You are so smart," Pansy cooed.

"He is," Angelina agreed. "Although I'm sure he could have controlled any slave he wanted. It really isn't surprising that Draco's quit cooperating. He is much too weak to keep their loyalty."

"Weak?" Daphne asked, piping up for the first time. "I believe you are mistaken. He is too cruel. The slaves are not stupid. If they believe that it would be easier to die than to live, they will act in a manner that will get them killed."

George raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. He hadn't expected that bit of intelligent insight.

"Oh, you are simply too soft," Pansy argued. "The key isn't to be nice to them. Then they'll only take advantage of you. You have to break their spirits. Isn't that right, Georgie?" Suddenly he regretted thinking that she wasn't too bad. In this world, it was the sweet and innocent ones who you had to watch out for.

"Perhaps, but mine has no spirits to break. Ask Fred. He procured quite the firecracker himself."

Just then the door opened, and Draco Malfoy arrived, impeccably groomed and looking the part of a pureblood elitist perfectly.

The girls all greeted him warmly, and he responded with a stiff nod in their direction before he took a seat next to Fred.

"Okay, okay, now that we're all finished with that, I must ask you Fred, how do you say that a person should handle their slave?" Pansy asked hurriedly.

He hesitated for a moment, then said, "You treat them with a modicum of decency. Either they will appreciate it and obey your commands, or they will try to take advantage of it, in which instance you strip them of all humanity and force them to comply."

His voice was confident and joking through the speech, but George knew him well enough to know how disgusted he really was by his own words.

"Nicely put," Angelina said. "I must say that I truly appreciate his idea."

"Oh, really," Draco said. "Talking about the proper way to treat a slave? Why must we even give thought to those terrible creatures? There must be something else to talk about. Ah, Fred, George, I have never heard about how your Quidditch training went this summer. Is Krum as brilliant as they say?"

The twins exchanged a panicked look.

"Even better," George finally said. "A magnificent player. He taught us dozens of brilliant moves."

"Glad to hear it. Perhaps this year we can finally beat the Dumbledores, eh?"

The Dumbledores? Was that an actual house? Instead of the four houses, were there two? Grindelwald and Dumbledore? That wouldn't make for much of a Quidditch season, let alone a House Cup.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Fred said vaguely.

"Good. Now, I heard Cassius talking about our strategy this year, and he thinks that we'll start running a 1-1-3 defense, where we've got the first two chasers stacked at the head of the formation, and then…."

Draco continued to talk about Quidditch for the next hour. The girls gradually lost interest and started talking about other things, even Angelina.

George vaguely kept an ear on their conversation, which was mainly just about their summers, spent at various locations around the globe. Eventually that trailed off until Pansy finally announced that she was going to take a nap and rested her head on George's chest. He closed his eyes for a moment to keep from doing something stupid, then tuned back into Draco's discussion of how badly Graham Montague, the Dumbledore's captain, cheated until Draco announced that he was going to take a nap as well.

After that, the rest of the people in the compartment started in on their own thing. Daphne opened up a thin paperback and started reading. Angelina turned her attention to the scenery flying past outside, and Fred leaned his head back against his seat and closed his eyes.

George simply sat there. He wasn't tired at all, and he doubted that he could sleep with Pansy using him as her personal pillow, anyway. The 'sweet' girl who talked about how important it was to break a person's spirit to obtain complete control over them. She had always been one of the people he hated most back at Hogwarts because she was impossible to ignore. She stuck her nose in everything and wouldn't shut her bloody mouth. Now, apparently she was his girlfriend, no doubt because she was rich and easy.

"You really don't like her, do you?"

George's head whipped up to the sound of the voice. Angelina was looking at him intently. He shrugged.

"She's hot, she's easy to manipulate, and she's rich. What else could I want?" he answered. It was the best other-George answer he could come up with. Angelina laughed.

"Obviously something else, or you wouldn't be looking at her like she's a Mudblood."

He shrugged, fishing for something to say. Finally he settled on, "You know that I wouldn't keep her around if I found anything better."

She finally assented to that, going back to looking out the window, but George could still feel her eyes on him every couple of minutes, like she wanted him to say more. Eventually he leaned back and closed his eyes in the hopes of avoiding anymore questions.

Thankfully, his idea worked. After a few minutes he heard Angelina and Daphne start talking about how they thought that Dumbledore wouldn't last much longer as Headmaster of the school. Apparently he was going bonkers.

Then Draco must have woken up, because George heard him join the conversation as it shifted towards expectations for their classes, and what they thought of certain teachers.

In what seemed like no time, Fred was shaking him awake. George opened his eyes slowly, as if he had actually been asleep, and Pansy started stirring in his arms, blinking tiredly.

"Whass'up?" he asked Fred sleepily.

"We're here," his twin answered.

"Great," Pansy said as she untangled herself from George. "I'm starving. I've missed Riddle's crew's cooking."

"Huh?" George asked, looking at her strangely.

"You must still be sleepy, Georgie," Pansy said with a laugh. "Tom Riddle. You know, the guy who feeds you whenever you guys sneak down to the kitchens."

His eyebrows rose high enough to disappear into his hair.

"Right, right, right. I totally forgot about that. His food really is brilliant."

He bit his lip against the urge to truly laugh for the first time since he had gotten to that twisted world. Lord Voldemort had ended up as Hogwarts head 'house elf'!

"Exactly," Pansy agreed. "No one makes chimichangas like his people do."

"Ooh, and don't forget about his éclairs," Angelina piped up. "Pure deliciousness."

"How amusing," Draco sneered as the train came to a stop. "I think that there are more exciting things at Hogwarts than some Mudblood's cooking."

George laughed when he saw Angelina glare at him as he exited the compartment. It was a look that was so purely her that he couldn't help cling to the hope that there were some things that just never changed.

After they exited the train, they were led to same horseless carriages that had always taken them to the castle before. The trip was spent listening to Draco go on about how stupid it was to be so excited about something as trivial as food when there were a million other wonders to behold at the school, such as Quidditch and potions class, which was apparently taught by Lucius Malfoy himself.

Then, in what seemed like no time at all, Fred and George were on the ground and entering Hogwarts once again.

George couldn't help but relax as he entered the school that had always seemed like a second home to him. Everything was still the same, at least at first. The same paintings smiled at him, the same suits of armor seemed to watch his every move. He was just thinking that maybe at the school, away from most of the cruelty of this world, he could make it until him and Fred found their way home.

That was when their little group entered the Great Hall.

As he had expected, there were two houses, two long tables. One with a crimson banner dangling in front of it, a phoenix proudly overlooking the students. The banner hanging over the other table was the deepest of black, a silver wolf representing Grindelwald's side.

He followed his group to that table, wondering what characteristics represented each, and wondering if they still used the sorting hat to decide which students went where.

"Ooh," Pansy said, literally tugging George out of his observations. "Look, isn't Grindelwald so magnificent? Much, much more regal than Dumbledore, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes. Much, much more regal," he agreed as he looked towards the staff table. To be honest, the man she was looking at was just as old and not a bit more 'regal' than Dumbledore. If anything, his old Headmaster was the most impressive of the two. He seemed years younger, stronger even, than what George remembered. His dark crimson robes were much more intimidating than the twinkling blue ones he had always worn, and his usual friendly smile looked a heck of a lot more menacing than his old one ever had.

Once they got to the end of the table, Pansy finally took a seat, and the rest of them sat around her. She continued chatting on about Grindelwald's obvious superiority until sixty or so nervous first years were herded into the Great Hall. It was then that George noticed the stool and Sorting Hat, sitting exactly where they always had. Another little familiar thing to latch onto.

The hat, however, didn't sing. It actually sounded a little bit grumpy as a professor that George did not recognize rushed through the sorting. Every 'Grindelwald' or 'Dumbledore' was said with a forced enthusiasm that showed George that even the bloody Sorting Hat missed the way that things used to be.

Then the Sorting was done, and Grindelwald stepped forward.

"Hello, students of Hogwarts," he said with a charismatic smile that made him look like a genial old man. "I am more than delighted to see all of you back here, ready to turn yourselves into productive, powerful witches and wizards. However, all of you know that my delight will not last long if you do not continue to apply yourselves wholeheartedly to your studies. Lazy, inept slackers will be thrown out of the school, and any unacceptable behavior will not be tolerated. You were all born of powerful, wealthy wizarding families, and it is up to you to keep yourself from becoming disgraces."

He paused for a moment, as if he wanted to let that sink in. His smile was still on his face.

"Very good. I see that you understand what I am saying. Now, in honor of the Greater Good, I shall read you all the Code of the Deathly Hallows. I expect your utmost attention."

And for once, George actually gave it to him, although the 'Code of the Deathly Hallows' was nothing more than a fancy name for a stupid constitution. Grindelwald read the whole thing, too, all half hour of it, from the introduction that basically said him and Dumbledore commanded total authority, to the thousand million stupid laws, to the punishments doled out if you broke those laws. Then, at the very end, there was even a wonderful ten minute section outlining how horrible non-Purebloods were.

The whole thing was such a load of bull that George nearly collapsed in relief when it was finally done. The sad thing was, though, that other than him and Fred, everyone else looked like they wanted him to keep going, like they were hanging onto Grindelwald's every word. It was disgusting.

Then Dumbledore stepped up to take his place, and George braced himself for another long speech. But all that his headmaster did was outline the rules that George had heard since his first year, reminding them to stay away from the Forbidden Forest and not pull any stupid pranks, like anyone would actually go against Grindelwald anyway. Although the looks that Fred and George received from anyone near them told George that apparently the two of them _had _gone against the dictator. That was the first time he was actually kind of proud of the old George.

Then all of the good old rules were gone, and Dumbledore spewed out a list of slave regulations in one huge rush of air. "No student under their seventh year is allowed a slave. Students who do own their own slaves must keep them at either their own property, or in their dorm rooms. The school will not provide additional lodging or meals for slaves. Slaves are allowed in classes, but any disruptions will not be tolerated."

Then he took a deep breath and flashed a slightly insane smile towards all of the students. "Now that those unpleasantries are through, I do believe that you all must be starving. So, tuck in. You will need the energy for your classes tomorrow."

With that, an enormous spread of food appeared on the two tables, but George had his eyes on Dumbledore as the old man returned to his seat, smiling and humming to himself, looking like a harmless, half dead old geezer. George wondered if it was an act, or if all of the headmaster's horrible crimes had turned his brain to mush. Looking at him, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know.

"Aren't you going to eat, Georgie?" Pansy asked. George forced a smile and started piling delicious-looking food onto his plate, figuring that not eating wouldn't do him any good.

He nearly moaned after he took the first succulent bite of his roast. Voldemort was a damn good cook. He inhaled his entire plate within minutes, but the students all hung around after they were finished, talking and laughing with each other until Dumbledore stood up and dismissed them.

George followed Pansy out of the Great Hall, sticking by her as closely as he could because he had no idea where the Grindelwald dorms would be. After a while, though, their direction was clear. For whatever reason the Grindelwalds had been given the old Gryffindor dorms, and for once George knew exactly where to go. He grinned as he followed the crowd through the portrait of the Fat Lady and found himself in the room he knew so well.

Yes, all of the gold and crimson was replaced by silver and black, and the place had a colder feeling to it in general, but it was still the same room, the same place where he had virtually grown up in. The familiarity of it had him smiling.

He was even happier when he followed Cassius Warrington, a Slytherin git who was in their year, to their dorms. The room was so similar to the one that he had stayed in just last year that if Lee had been there in place of Warrington, Roger Davies, and Jared Macmillan, he would have almost been able to believe that everything was normal.

As it was, Warrington was treating him like a good friend, Davies had his scrawny little slave dressing him for bed, and Jared was ordering his slave to get his books in order for the next day. Most definitely _not _normal.

With a sigh, he laid himself down on his bed, not even bothering to change. All that he wanted was to escape that stupid world as quickly as possible. Fortunately, he managed to fall asleep nearly instantly.

**A/N- **

**Ugh, I get to writing these, and then they always seem to stretch out to twice the length I had planned, in addition to not covering as much as I would have liked. Oh well, I guess none of my readers have complained about it yet, so I guess it isn't too much of an inconvenience. **

**Hope you liked it, and I'll love you forever if you review. **

**~bballgirl32~**


	5. Voices

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**You could say I'm a little bit crazy**_

_**You could call me insane**_

_**Walkin' 'round with all these whispers**_

_**Runnin' 'round here in my brain**_

_**I just can't help but hear 'em**_

_**Man, I can't avoid it**_

_**I hear voices**_

_**Voices, Chris Young **_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

"Ow, bloody hell," Fred heard someone curse under their breath. A moment later a heavy body was on top of him, letting loose a string of whispered words that'd have a sailor blushing. It was clearly Davies. Warrington didn't lose his temper that easily, and he didn't think Macmillan ever got that mad.

"Get off me before I kill you," Fred grumbled into his pillow. It was early enough that he didn't even have to fake old Fred's temper.

"Sorry, George," Davies whispered as he scrambled off from on top of him. "You know I need to get up early to do my hair, and I just tripped..."

"It's Fred," he muttered. He really wanted to ask what kind of guy would get up at whatever time it was to do their hair, but he figured that it must be some kind of tradition, and it would look suspicious if he questioned it now. "Honestly, what time is it, anyway?"

"Five," answered Davies. "Like always."

"You deserve to be sent to Nurmengard for this," Fred mumbled before he turned around and covered his face with his pillow again. Davies hurried past him and out the door.

Fred tried to get back to sleep for a while, but he was too anxious about his classes, and not knowing what to do, and more or less getting found out and painfully murdered.

So, eventually, he got up and started fishing around in his trunk, letting out a sigh of relief when he finally found his uniform and robes. He quickly changed, then grabbed his broom, and, after a small hesitation, his bell as well.

Once the bell was safely in his pocket, he ducked out of the room, then silently made his way out of the portrait and started slinking through the familiar halls. The actual layout of the castle hadn't changed at all, and he quickly found the portrait of the dancing witch that would lead him straight out to the Quidditch pitch. He graciously gave her the password, and she smiled at him before opening to reveal a narrow passageway. Fred ducked in and quickly shimmied his way to the other side.

He cautiously pushed the upper-left brick on the wall at the end of the tunnel. The bricks flashed for a moment, indicating that he could jump right through them. Fred braced himself for the somewhat long fall, then stepped off the ledge.

He touched down ten feet below with a smile on his face. The beautiful Quidditch pitch was sprawled out before him, exactly as it had been before, sans the changed banners around the field. But it was still the same field, the same hoops, and the same twinkling night sky that he had flown under every other time he'd snuck out of the school when he'd been stressed.

Inhaling the crisp early morning air, he swung a leg over his broom and took off, flying a few easy laps around the pitch before he sped up, switching from simple flying to intricate loops and turns. The sun rose as he flew, illuminating the sparkling black lake and turning the sky a wonderful pink.

It was sappy to think, but he couldn't believe that there was so much beauty in such a dark world. There was something completely not right about that.

He flew for a while longer, then figured that he should be getting back. He doubted that there were any early morning rituals for him to follow, but he wanted to be sure not to miss anything.

He turned to give the sunrise a parting glance, then paused. Hermione had been in hiding for most of her life, and now she was locked in a dungeon. Fred wondered how many sunrises she'd seen before. He bit his lip as his hand grabbed the little red bell on its own accord. She wouldn't care what he wanted to show her, and it's not like he could just tell her that he wanted her to see the sunrise. No, that would never work.

However, he could order her to carry his broom…. Yes. Perfect. With a grin, he carefully rang the crystal bell. There was a pop a second later, and then Hermione was standing directly in front of him. Fred quickly stowed the bell away.

"Wonderful morning, isn't it?" he asked her genially, knowing that she'd take it as a joke. Like he expected, she glared at him. The effect was even nicer because of the way her bushy brown hair was flying wildly around her face. She looked positively wild.

"Go to hell."

"Huh, it must be too early. I totally understand. My psychotic roommate tripped on me on his way to do his hair, and I just couldn't get back to sleep."

"How tragic," she spat sarcastically. He grinned.

"I know, it is, isn't it? I mean, what kind of guy gets up at five in the morning to do his bloody hair! I guess I shouldn't be complaining, though. I snuck out and got in some time on my broom. The sunrise is wonderful, by the way. Turn around and enjoy it for a moment. I can't have you acting so crabby around my roommates. It'll make me look bad."

She started to snap a sharp retort, but he leaned forward and gently put his hands on her shoulders before spinning her around so she was facing the sunrise. He grinned when he heard her light gasp.

"I- I-" She shook her head, sending her thick hair bouncing this way and that. "You didn't call me here to talk and look at the sunrise."

"Why not? How do you know I'm not just a nice person?" he asked innocently.

"Nice my arse," she growled. "You're a rapist, a murder, a torturer… inhuman, from the stories that I've heard."

Fred shrugged, even as he was cringing internally from her words.

"Yeah, that sounds about right. I'm lazy, too, if you want to know. So here's my broom, and have fun carrying it."

"Wait," she said, raising an eyebrow. "You called me here to carry your broom?"

"Disappointing, isn't it? Davies, the guy currently working on his hair, has his slave help him dress. I'm sure that you'd love me to assign you that job-"

"You disgust me."

"But as you can see, I'm perfectly able to dress myself-"

"Your tie is crooked," she pointed out. He smirked.

"Then fix it," he said. Her jaw immediately clenched, and her face turned red, but to his surprise she stepped forward and started straightening it out. Then he noticed her shaking hands, the pure rage in her eyes that hadn't been there a moment before. She had no choice.

A wave of guilt washed over him.

"Thanks, doll," he said as carelessly as possible. He didn't know why that information affected him like that. In all honesty, it should have been obvious. Clearly they wouldn't give their slaves free will. That would be stupid. But it still made Fred mad. It was like the slaves didn't even have a chance to fight back…

But then what was with Draco's slave? Why would the girls have been talking about ways to control your slaves yesterday on the train? If they automatically conformed to your every wish-"

"If you call me that one more time, I will personally make your life a living hell."

Of course. For whatever reason, the slaves were still able to talk. Fred knew that there were hexes you could use to silence a person, but a completely silent slave had the potential to be inconvenient. They couldn't do anything, but Fred bet that a pureblood aristocrat wouldn't tolerate a mouth like Hermione's for very long.

"Unless I ordered you not to," Fred told Hermione, somewhat bitterly. "Besides, what else am I suppose to call you? Mudblood? You never told me your name."

"And I'm not planning on it either," she said dryly.

"Too bad, Hermione."

She froze, her brown eyes huge. "How did you know that?"

He shrugged easily. "Lucky guess, now-"

"Tell me, you stupid arsehole!" she shrieked. He clenched his fists as annoyance and anger started flowing through his veins, as thoughts that felt so _right _took over the ones of patience and kindness.

_Unbelievable. She interrupted me! I take the time to be __**kind **__to her, and the ungrateful bitch interrupts me and cusses at me. I'll force her to show me gratitude. _

"Never give me an order again," he spat, then reached his hand back and slapped her in the face. She stared up at him with wide brown eyes, looking a hell of a lot like a wounded doe. It made him feel _good. _

"I hate-"

"Shut up," he ordered. And she did because she had to. "Good. Now apologize to me. _Beg _for my forgiveness."

She closed her eyes. Her jaw quivered. She was trying to disobey him. The thought made him angry.

"Say it," he snapped.

"Please, please forgive me, Master. I- I'm sorry," she spat through gritted teeth.

"That was terrible. Do it again, Mudblood," he commanded, raising his wand and holding it to her neck.

"I- I-"

"Pathetic," growled Fred. "Maybe this will encourage you. Cruci-"

He staggered forward, barreling into her, and then collapsing, sending her down with him. Like before, his heart was beating ten times too fast, and he felt as though his head were going to explode.

Then he felt a kick connect squarely with his back, and he rolled off of Hermione. She jumped to her feet immediately.

"I- s- sorry," he muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. What in Merlin's name was going on with him? It was like whenever she pushed him too far, he just _changed. _He could remember every word, every action clearly. He remembered exactly what he'd been thinking, how right it felt to hurt her, how natural it was. And how there hadn't been a single part of him that had regretted it.

"Sorry!" Hermione screamed. "You're sorry! That's just hilarious. You're nutters, Fred Weasley. I swear…"

"Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked softly. If the guilt that he felt after she'd been forced to straighten his tie was bad, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling at that moment. The burning shame in the pit of his stomach was ten times worse than any stupid headache.

"Just peachy," she said. He swallowed hard, then shakily got to his feet.

"T-That slap didn't hurt, did it?" he asked. She didn't answer him, just stared back with hard eyes. He bit his lip before turning away from her. How was he supposed to get her to trust him if he treated her like that? Acting crude was one thing, but hitting her when no one was even watching was completely different.

This place was driving him crazy. He had to go back in time and change things back. Quickly.

"Don't worry about carrying my broom," Fred said quickly. "I got it. It'll be harder to sneak back in with two people, anyway. You can just.. Go to the kitchens and talk to Tom Riddle. Tell him that I ordered you to get food for me and my twin, but take it back to Weasley Manor and share it with Lee. Ask him for whatever you want."

Her eyes widened. "Are you going to poison me?"

"No, I'm not. I just think that you need good food. Just don't let my mum see it, unless you want to get in trouble for what I did. Now go… if you want to."

She hesitated a moment, and then she was gone. Fred relaxed slightly. It was the least he could do. Honestly, he wanted to do so much more, (he'd slapped her for crying out loud!) but he had to stay inconspicuous. At least until he gained her trust. If ever did with those stupid attacks coming out of nowhere. It was almost like…

It was almost like old Fred's mind was overlapping with his own. Like since he'd taken over old Fred's body, that he'd taken over his mind as well. Except the mind hadn't been completely taken over.

He panicked at the thought. What if it kept getting stronger, until he was completely gone and the old Fred had taken over? And what about George? Was the same thing happening to his brother? What if they both got completely brainwashed, and ended up not caring that they stayed here, and the world stayed like this forever with the cruel Weasley twins murdering and raping and doing who knows what else?

He shook his head. Worrying wouldn't help. He'd just have to stay calm. And besides, if Hermione started trusting him, she'd stop making him mad, and then maybe the attacks would stop. Because that's what had triggered them before, her comments.

Yes, as soon as he gained her trust, he would return to normal. He took a deep breath and repeated the thought. It was shaky, but Fred forced himself to believe it. It would be impossible to function otherwise, with worries of losing his mind plaguing him constantly.

Once he had worked out that situation, he quietly made his way back to Grindelwald Tower. There were already several students milling around in the common room, but none of them paid him any heed. He made it back to his dorm without a hitch. Davies was getting dressed with the help of his slave, ordering the skinny boy to fix the most trivial of things such as random wrinkles or uneven buttons. His shoulder-length black hair hung shaggily on either side of his face, looking professionally messy.

Cassius was already dressed, looking perfect and intimidating and every inch the perfectly put-together prefect that Fred remembered. Beside him Jared still looked somewhat like his carefree Hufflepuff self, wearing a baggy t-shirt that went down to his knees and pants with fluttering snitches on them, his normal smile spread across his face.

Then Fred looked towards George and shot him a sheepish grin when he saw the annoyance on his twin's face. He probably should have at least told George that he was leaving. Then again, George knew him well enough to know where he had been.

"I cannot believe you, Gred," George said with a shake of his head. "Going for an early morning flight without me. I don't know if I can ever forgive you."

"Oh, cut it out, Forge. You would've been too lazy to get up anyway," he said, somewhat shakily. He wasn't really in the mood to joke around, especially not when he realized that he was going to have to tell George what was happening to him. For once he regretted their unspoken rule to tell each other everything. Of course he didn't have to, but he knew that he'd go insane trying to keep something so big from his twin.

George tossed another comment back at him, but Fred could see in his eyes that he knew something was up. Fred would be getting an interrogation as soon as possible. He was tempted to tell George to follow him to some secret passage right then and there, but then Cassius mentioned that it was already almost seven thirty, and they really needed to get to breakfast.

"Oh, bugger," Jared mumbled. He looked around for a moment, then shrugged a pair of robes at least as nice as Fred and George's over his tattered shirt and snitch pants, before throwing on a pair of thick white socks. He then squeezed his feet into the regulation shiny black shoes. "Alright. Let's go."

Fred tried not to laugh. He had a feeling that the uniform lapse would be frowned upon here, but apparently this was another tradition because Warrington just shook his head and left.

Fred waited for George, and then they started for the Great Hall walking side by side.

"Why'd you get up so early this morning?" George asked him. Fred opened his mouth to answer, but George cut him off with an elbow to the ribs. "Hey, look, Harry and Ron are still friends.

Fred followed George's gaze to where Ron was whispering with a familiar head of black hair in a corner. But it couldn't be Harry.

"Of course that's not Harry," Fred argued. "His mum was Muggleborn, remember? And his dad belonged to that huge line of rich purebloods. They wouldn't have met. Harry doesn't exist here." George shook his head.

"That's him. I know it is."

"It's probably one of James Potter's other kids-" Fred started, but George interrupted him with a loud, "Harry!"

Fred watched in shock as the black haired boy turned around and regarded the two of them with his trademark emerald eyes. The eyes that everyone said were just like Lily Potter's. _How in Merlin's name did that happen? _

"Uh. Hi," he said, looking at Fred and George strangely.

"Hullo," George said cheerfully, then dragged Fred out of the common room. "See, that's Harry. I told you so."

"But that's impossible," Fred argued.

"Just ignore it for now," George urged. "We have bigger problems. It's probably a glitch in time. A Harry Potter was meant to exist, so some kind of exception was made or something. Right now we should get to breakfast."

Fred hesitantly agreed, and the two of them set off for the Great Hall. Fred couldn't help but laugh when Pansy ran over and basically mauled George.

"Good morning, Georgie," she said, standing on her tiptoes for a kiss. Seeing the look on his brother's face, Fred quickly intervened with an obnoxious cough.

"There are other people watching, people who are interested in keeping their breakfast," he said. Pansy glared at him, kissed George anyway, and then grabbed her boyfriend's hand and hauled him off to the same place they had sat last night. Fred hurriedly followed, not wanting to leave his brother alone with the witch.

"Your hair is terrible this morning," Angelina told Fred when he sat down beside her. Fred gave her a look.

"I did that on purpose. You know, the 'I just got off my broom' look. It makes me look hot."

She laughed. "Of course. I don't know how I could've missed that. You're a stud, honestly."

"As reassuring as that is to hear, I am afraid your comment is wildly inappropriate, Miss Johnson." Fred froze, immediately recognizing the terse voice that spoke over his shoulder. Draco shrunk a little into Daphne's side.

"Professor Malfoy," Angelina said quickly. "I- I was addressing Fred, sir."

"I do not care who you were addressing. A comment such as that is unbecoming to a lady of your caliber, especially when directed to a gentleman of Mister Weasley's rank."

"Yes, sir," she said, bowing her head slight.

"It is nice to see that we have understanding," Lucius Malfoy drawled, his pale eyes giving her a disdainful look. He then whipped a schedule off of the top of the stack in his gloved hand and held the paper out to Angelina. "Your schedule, Miss Johnson. If you have complaints, it would do you good to keep them to yourself."

She nodded, and Malfoy turned and held out a schedule to Fred.

"Mister Weasley. If something is unsatisfactory, I am sure that Professor Dumbledore shall be able to make your classes more suitable." He then proceeded to give schedules to the rest of the group before continuing down the table. When he was gone, Angelina breathed a sigh of relief.

"Your dad frightens me, Draco," she commented.

"He frightens everyone," the blonde answered. Then he turned to Daphne and started discussing classes. Fred leaned forward to compare his schedule with George. They were exactly the same, as they had been back in the normal world.

The Dark Arts with Horace Slughorn. Potions with Lucius Malfoy. Charms with Rabstan Lestrange. Transfiguration with Minerva McGonagall. And Battle Training with… James Potter.

Fred and George exchanged a look.

Lucius Malfoy, an ex Death Eater, and a guy with a son who he really shouldn't have.

_Well, _Fred thought, _this is going to be interesting. _

Fred and George had double potions first thing that morning. As no one else in their group had that class, they found Warrington and Macmillan and walked to the dungeons with them.

"I heard that N.E.W.T. potions is brutal," Cassius commented. Fred shrugged. He'd always had a knack for potions. Of course, he'd also used that knack to make sure everything blew up in an effort to piss Snape off, but that was irrelevant.

"I doubt it's going to be that hard," Fred said. "Besides, Malfoy is the teacher."

Warrington shook his head at him.

"Yeah, that means it's easy for the two of you, but hell for the rest of us," said Jared.

"You probably could start off on a better foot if you actually had your uniform on," said George. Macmillan made a face at him.

"I lost track of time, Weasley. Besides, if Malfoy knows what's good for him, he won't go around messing with me," he said as they walked into the potions room. Fred nearly smiled when he heard a dark chuckle.

"Twenty points from Grindelwald for neglecting to wear the school uniform," drawled Lucius coldly. Fred snorted out a laugh.

"Don't worry, Jared. I'm sure that he only took points from you because you were so intimidating," he joked. That only earned him a nasty look. He ignored it and took a seat next to George. Moments later, class began.

All in all, Lucius Malfoy was more or less Snape reincarnated. He gave a short, authoritarian speech on responsibility and how exact and complicated potions were, and then flicked his wand at the board, revealing a long series of confusing instructions.

"It may look difficult, but I'll have you note that the potion you are about to make is indeed extremely simple. You shall be brewing what is more or less a powerful acid that has the potential to burn through solid metal. If the potion comes into contact with your skin, it will be burned through. I encourage you to use extreme caution. Now, you may begin."

Fred made a face. They sure as hell hadn't made any potions like that back at the old Hogwarts.

"I suppose we should start," George said hesitantly, looking to where most of the class was gathered around the storage cabinets, digging for supplies.

"I suppose we should," agreed Fred. Then the twins went to fetch their ingredients before starting in on the volatile potion. They were only a fraction of the way done with the long list of instructions when it was time for their free period.

Fred wanted to use that time to tell George what had happened early that day, but Pansy had come running up to George the moment they were out of the room and started going on and on about how amazing it was that they had the same free period every Monday. So, Fred wandered off by himself, not really paying any attention to where he was going, but just letting his feet carry him.

That was how he wound up in front of the portrait of the pear. He hesitated a moment, then reached up to tickle it, figuring that having a tête-à-tête with Voldemort would be an educational way to spend his time.

An unfamiliar redheaded witch was waving a plastic-looking wand at an enormous ball of dough when he walked in. Fred figured that it was probably modified to only do certain things, so that slaves could use magic to get things done more conveniently, but couldn't, say, blow their owner's heads off.

"Good morning, Master Weasley," the witch said with a genial smile. There was something strangely familiar about her, but he just couldn't place what it was. After a moment's hesitation, Fred inclined his head in her direction before continuing on.

As he walked, he saw other slaves performing various duties, from casting dishwashing charms with the strange wands to starting food for lunch. There was one man that he took particular notice of, though.

The tall, silver-haired man was handing out a continuous stream of orders in a smooth voice that Fred enjoyed listening to. He was aged, but handsome, with chiseled features and few wrinkles. His dark eyes were intelligent and bright, as though he were still a young child, but there was something darker in his countenance, something that hinted at a long, difficult life, but only if you looked hard enough.

What Fred noticed above all else, though, was the simple power that seemed to radiate off of the man. It was subtle, but Fred could feel it. It was the same kind of presence that Grindelwald and Dumbledore had, except even more impressive because the silver-haired man wasn't in a position of power. He was wearing a tattered, grease-splattered t-shirt and pants that were patched up in numerous places. His face was dirty and smudged with flour, and there were burn scars on his forearms. Yet, he quietly commanded the same kind of respect that the two dictators earned only by violence and war.

It was Lord Voldemort, but in the opposite position that he was in the other world.

"And Marianne, don't forget to start making up the biscuits," Riddle ordered before his eyes widened as he noticed Fred. The older man quickly hurried forward before hastily inclining his head. "Wonderful to see you here, Master Weasley. I pray that you did not find any problems with the breakfast that I had prepared for you and your brother."

"Breakfast… Oh, no. It was wonderful, perfect," Fred said, quickly remembering his orders to Hermione.

"Good, good. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Uh. Well. Do you have any cake?" he asked, the first thing that came to his mind.

"Of course, Master." Fred made a face. He couldn't get over how strange it was to have this clearly superior wizard addressing him as Master. Voldemort, nonetheless.

"Great. I'll have a slice of that, then. If you don't mind."

Riddle sent him a strange look, and Fred realized that he wasn't being demanding at all. He kind of forgot how to be demanding in Riddle's presence.

Thankfully, the chef seemed to write his attitude off as a freak occurrence and called, "Lily, would you be so kind as to get the young Master Weasley a slice of the cake we made this morning?"

Fred's eyes widened and he spun around just in time to see the redheaded witch from earlier walk by him.

"Er, Miss," Fred said quickly. The woman turned and looked directly at him with her emerald green eyes. _Wow. Halfway into the day, and I smell a scandal. _

"Yes, Master."

"Oh, nothing," said Fred. "You just reminded me of someone."

She gave him a cautious glance before hurrying off to fetch his cake.

Riddle gave Fred a look, but said nothing.

Figuring that there was no reason for things to be awkward, Fred said, "Nice morning, isn't it?" That got him another skeptical look. "Well, I think it is. Actually, I'm in a good mood today, anyway. Last night, I decided that I want to be the next dark lord, you know, after Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Only I don't have a cool name like they do, so I figured I'd make one up. Do you think Lord Voldemort would suit me?"

Tom Riddle was starting to look at him like he was on some kind of experimental medical potion. Then Lily arrived with a plate of chocolate cake, and he said, "Your cake, Master Weasley. I hope you find it satisfactory."

Then Riddle and Lily both left.

"Well, I think it's a beautiful name," Fred called after him. Then he quickly ate his cake and left the kitchen to tell George of his discoveries.


	6. You Never Know

**_**.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.**_**

**_**You never know what's around the bend**_**

_**Could be a new beginning**_

_**Or it could be the end**_

_**You can dream, plan, scream, wish, pray and hope**_

_**But you never know**_

_**You Never Know, Craig Morgan**_

**.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.**

George sighed in relief as he plunked down into his chair beside Fred in Rabastan Lestrange's Charms classroom. He had just spent half of his free period with Pansy hanging off of him like a leech. Finally he had snapped and told her that she was annoying as hell and that he was going to send her to one of his father's prisons if she didn't leave him alone. The words had just slipped out of his mouth, and he'd kind of felt guilty afterwards, but at least she'd left him alone.

"Have fun with Pansy?" Fred asked him cheerfully. George made a face. His brother seemed in a better mood than he had that morning.

"Loads," he said sardonically. Then he made a face. Since when did he sound so cynical? He shook his head. This stupid world was wearing off on him.

"Wow, you're pissed off," Fred notified him. "And to think, I actually thought that you'd make a good couple."

George forced a laugh. "Really, Fred. Of all the things that have happened to us, that's the one that's most unlikely."

"Actually, I'd say that Voldemort serving as chef would…" he trailed off with wide eyes. George cautiously turned around, his own widening as he took in the man striding to the front of the classroom.

He had heard of Rabastan Lestrange, the Death Eater sentenced to Azkaban for his involvement in the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, but he had never seen him before. He'd expected someone scary, but not a person who looked so _much _like a Death Eater.

Lestrange was tall, well over six feet, and built strong. His hair was a tangled mess of black, his eyes cold pools of onyx. The man had handsome features, but his skin was so pale that it would be hard to consider him good-looking. When he curled his upper lip at the class, George caught a glimpse of a golden tooth. Gleaming around his neck was a necklace with the same symbol that had been on the flag earlier, the circle with the triangle and line inside.

"Welcome to seventh year charms." George cringed at his voice. It was low and rough, almost like rocks grating on one another. "None of you need to be told the importance of this year for each and every one of you. One failed class could mean the difference between a real job and a stay with the Weasleys."

His dark eyes found the place where Fred and George were sitting as he said the last sentence. Fred let out a low laugh, and George smirked. It was the reaction that would be expected.

"Does everyone understand this?" Lestrange asked. Most of the class nodded furiously, other than several who George knew would be above any punishments given to them for unsatisfactory grades. Warrington and Macmillan both looked completely unconcerned, as well as the Dumbledores Graham Montague and Adrian Pucey.

"Very good. Now, shall we begin? For today, I wish to go over all that you have learned up to now in your Hogwarts education. First, let us start with charms that you may use in battle." George watched in horror as Rabastan reached into his pocket and pulled out an orange crystal bell. He rang it once, and then a small, dark-haired girl was standing in front of them, dressed in tattered clothing and covered in scars. George had a feeling that he knew where those scars had come from.

"Now, I want all of you to form a single file line in front of me and start performing any charms you know that have the possibility of causing damage to an opponent."

As soon as he was done speaking, the entire class hurried to line up in front of the slave, wands raised and terrible smiles on their faces. Fred and George exchanged horrified looks before cautiously joining the end of the line.

They watched as students used different charms on the gangly little girl. She was burnt, confunded, frozen in ice, thrown against the wall, left without patches of skin. And the entire time, she was shaking and sobbing and crying out in pain.

As she continued getting pummeled, students were grinning and exchanging high-fives. Cassius Warrington started laughing while he was freezing her hands, and Angelina set everyone giggling even harder when she melted them with a cocky, 'incendio'.

Then it was George's turn, and he didn't know what to do. Finally he gulped down the bile that had been rising in his throat and used a simple summoning charm to ram a desk into her, trying to lighten the force at the last moment but not succeeding too well. After that, Fred used a variation of the bubble-head charm, tightening it to the point where it suffocated her. His hand was shaking the entire time that he was holding it up, and when he took it off as soon as he could, George didn't miss the moisture in his twin's eyes.

"Very, very good," said Rabastan as he clapped his hands slowly. "Truly a brilliant show of charm-work. Because of your aptitude, I shall release you ten minutes early."

That started a bout of cheerful murmuring as the class filed out of the room. Warrington hesitated, looking to see if Fred and George were going to follow him, but George waved him forward and he left the twins to collect their things.

The two of them, the last students in the room, were just about to leave when George heard Lestrange's gravely voice say, "Avada Kedavra." He whirled around just in time to see the telltale flash of green light surround the small girl. A moment later, a loud shattering noise followed, and pale orange glass flew everywhere.

And George started laughing. It was the most entertaining thing he had seen in a long time. The girl's lifeless body on the floor, beaten and mangled from the torture she had just endured. Hilarious, really. Something about how small and innocent she was compared to the looming figure of the charms professor, the way that his dominance was so clear, had him giddy with the rightness of the scene. Witnessing the murder of a slave? Beautiful. Purely beautiful.

"That was brilliant," George said to Lestrange.

Fred laughed, too.

"The look on her face was perfect," he said.

Lestrange gave them a smirk that made George proud. "She always did have the funniest expressions. It's only fitting that she'd save the best one for last."

The twins both gave one more laugh, then bid Lestrange farewell and started heading to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Too bad he didn't let us finish her. I would have loved to do something more creative," said George.

"Yeah. If he would've told us he was done with her, I could have just finished her off during my turn. It would have been so much easier."

"Now that would have been hilar-"

George suddenly got so dizzy that he couldn't walk anymore and fell limp against his twin's back before careening off of him and into the floor.

"What in the hell are you doing?" asked Fred, but with a slightly concerned note in his voice. George ignored him and shut his eyes in an attempt to slow his racing heart. Behind his lids he saw the slave girl lying on the floor, limp and unmoving. It wasn't funny anymore.

Just then, Fred pitched forward and stumbled over George before sprawling across the floor. George quickly forced himself onto his feet and staggered over to where Fred was lying on the ground, muttering breathless curses.

"Are you okay?" asked George shakily. Fred took a deep breath.

"Fine, but we need to talk somewhere privately. Now."

Normally neither twin would skip lunch under any circumstances, but Fred was right. They needed to talk.

"Yes, now," he agreed. "Let's go out by the lake."

Fred agreed, and the twins quietly headed out to the shore of the Black Lake, terror and nervousness quelling any possible conversation. Even once they were away from prying ears, George wasn't eager to talk.

"We're losing it," he finally mumbled. Fred shook his head.

"No, that's not it. There's something happening to us. You just thought that was funny, didn't you?"

George nodded mutely, too sick to speak. Now that the humor had worn off, the sight of the dead girl was almost too much to bear. He'd just witnessed a pointless murder! And then he'd laughed!

Fred took a shaky breath.

"It's not you, George. It was the old George. I think the old versions of us are trying to take over. The same thing has happened to me three times already. I thought that was as funny as you did, and I slapped Hermione this morning."

George looked up at his twin, relaxing just slightly. He wasn't a psychopath.

"That's what had you so messed up this morning, isn't it?"

Fred nodded.

"Yeah, and it makes me nervous. I mean, I was thinking, and what happens if our minds realign with the minds of the Fred and George who were here before us? We'll quit trying to leave, and we'll just pick up where they left off."

George hadn't thought about that. With a shaky breath, he said, "What could we do about it? I mean, it's not like someone would have invented a potion to stop this. I bet Dumbledore would maybe know something, but I'm not too keen to ask. Maybe we should just try to ignore it and get out of here before something terrible happens."

"You think that'll work?" Fred asked.

"I think that it's our best bet," George answered softly. The two of them sighed and then looked back towards the school.

"We should be getting to Battle Training," said George. Fred's face lit up almost comically quickly.

"Oh, I need to tell you about James Potter," he said. "He had an affair with a kitchen slave."

"What?" asked George, confused.

"Okay, I went to the kitchens this morning because I was curious about Riddle, and Lily Potter is working in there. That's where Harry came from. I guess I doubt anyone knows who his real mum is… don't know how they managed that, but it still has to be her. And that means that James Potter isn't a slave hater, and we may be able to trust him to help us go back in time."

"Or he could have raped her and not given a crap," George replied, but even his head was turning with the possibility. Having someone to confide in would be so nice…

"If that was true, James would've left Harry in the kitchens," Fred said. "He had to have really liked Lily."

George felt his lips turning up into a smile.

"You're right. This is perfect. He can help us. We can stay after class and talk to him."

"Great," said Fred. "I have a feeling that we'll be out of here in no time."

The two twins exchanged one more smile and then hurried back to the castle to find someone to lead them to their next class.

They ran into Angelina and Davies after a short search, and the four of them walked off to Battle Magic together, Angelina spending the entire time chattering about how boring her Arithimancy class was.

Minutes later, the four of them stepped into James Potter's classroom.

The first thing that George noticed was the size of the room. It was huge! At least the size of a football field, maybe bigger. There were around two dozen thick green mats piled up in one corner of the room. In another was a raised platform that looked almost like a boxing ring. Another area was set aside for fencing, and a wrestling mat was set up right beside it. The entire left edge of the room was turned into a dueling space.

James Potter was nowhere in sight.

"Huh, Professor Potter must be late," Angelina said, settling herself down on one of the wrestling mats. Fred and George both plopped down next to her, and Davies regally lowered himself next to them.

"Are you really that surprised?" Davies asked Angelina. She laughed and rolled her eyes.

"I suppose not. He spends half his time traipsing around the corridors in between classes. Although I've heard that he sneaks down to Ancient Runes to meet with Bella."

"Bella?" George asked before he could stop himself.

"Oh, puh-lees," Angelina said with an eye roll. "Bellatrix Potter? The other Professor Potter? The one you've had the crush on the past six years?"

"I know who she is," George said indignantly, although he'd had no idea. He was thankful for the knowledge, though. Knowing that James already had a wife made everything more interesting. The first name was even familiar, although he couldn't place where he had heard it before. "I was just expressing my disbelief that she would waste any more time on Professor Potter than she needed to knowing that someone as brilliant as myself is attending the school."

" Of course," Angelina said with an eye roll. "Like any woman would give up James Potter for you. You may be cute, but you aren't a complete stud like he is."

"A stud, Miss Johnson? I'm flattered," a voice that sounded awfully like Harry's said. George looked up and saw James Potter looking down at Angelina with a friendly smile on his face. "Although maybe you should keep that opinion to yourself. I wouldn't want Bella to hear." Then he strolled to the front of the classroom, saying a few words to other students on his way.

"Damn," she muttered when he was gone, clearly embarrassed. Fred and George both laughed.

"That's the second time today you've called a teacher a stud, Angie," said George.

"Although he took it better than Malfoy did," Fred added. She fixed them with a nasty glare.

"For your information, I did not call Professor Malfoy a stud. I was referring to Fred, and he got the wrong idea."

"So you think Fred is hotter than me?" asked George, grinning. At times like this, with no talk of slaves or other inconveniences, it was so easy to pretend that they were back home.

"I never said-"

"Actually, you did," Fred interrupted her. "It's simple math. If James Potter is studlier than George, but Fred is as studly as James Potter, that means that Fred is studlier than George."

Angelina groaned and buried her face in her hands, but James started talking before she could say anything else.

He began by reminding them of their N.E.W.T.s and whatnot, then quickly switched to saying that he hoped the class stayed in shape over the summer. "Now," he concluded. "Let's get you your uniforms, and then you can get started."

From there, he retrieved a wooden box and spent the next ten minutes retrieving small black bundles and tossing them out to his students.

"I expect you to all be changed and ready by the time that you step into my classroom from every day here on out. For today, however, I will allow you to stay in your school robes. We will do a quick lap, then proceed to review a small number of the 1-on-1 moves we learned at the end of last year."

Fred and George followed the group in a brisk lap around the small room, and then hung back as James called student after student up to the wrestling mat to demonstrate several complicated looking fighting moves on him. George desperately tried to pick up on what his other classmates were doing, but he didn't get any of it.

So when James called his name, he said, "I'm sorry, Professor. I feel rather sick today. Maybe I should just sit this one out."

His professor gave him a dirty look that did not match James Potter's carefree demeanor with the rest of the students. George took a small step backwards.

"You look fine, Mister Weasley."

He bit his lip.

"But-" The look on James's face had him shutting his mouth. He stepped onto the mat and faced the tall, dark-haired professor. George was bigger and taller than him, so maybe he did stand a chance. He knew how to fight. Kind of.

"I have a wand. You're wandless," James said, describing the situation. "Prevent me from firing at you while disarming me. Begin."

George gulped and didn't move a muscle. He had no idea what to do. He racked his brain, wondering if maybe old George was hanging around somewhere, but the stupid git apparently only showed up at inconvenient times because he came up empty.

James fired a hex at him, and George flopped onto the ground to avoid it. Some of the students around him started laughing, and his fists clenched of their own accord. He could feel heat flooding his cheats.

"What are you doing?" James asked tiredly, looking down at George like he was a petulant child.

"Watching you take advantage of an innocent little student who happens to be extremely dizzy right now. You see, Parkinson was assaulting me earlier, and I'm still somewhat sick," said George with his best smile. The entire class erupted into laughter, except for the Professor.

"I really don't have time for your distractions, Mister Weasley." He shook his head and looked at Fred. "I don't suppose that you are feeling much better than your brother?"

"Does it matter if I am? You'd just try to order me around like you're better than me. You've already done it to George."

"Fred," George snapped, a warning in his voice.

"What?" Fred asked, putting his hands in the air. "He's a stupid slave-loving prat! Neither of us should have to listen to the likes of him. Actually, if I had a choice in the matter, he'd be sent to Nurmengard with his stupid bastard of a so-"

"FRED!" screamed George. Everyone was staring at the two of them with wide eyes. James's hands were shaking.

"Are you actually taking _his _side?" Fred asked with a dark laugh. George put his hands on his brother's shoulders and shook him hard.

"Shut up," he hissed.

"Shut up? Why should I-"

Fred swooned, then fell against George.

"Class dismissed," James said quickly, taking a quick step towards where George was holding Fred.

"I'm sorry, Professor," George apologized as he kneeled down to set a moaning Fred onto the floor. "He didn't mean any of those things that he said, he wasn't in a right mind."

"What are you talking about, Mister Weasley?" James asked in a harsh, but confused voice.

"We both need to talk to you about something really important. Something's changed. Can it hold on just a moment, though? He's going to be fine in a few seconds."

"He fainted, Mister Weasley, you need to get him to the hospital wing."

"I- I'm fine," Fred muttered, forcing himself onto his knees. When he finished, his voice was stronger. "Just a little headache."

James was looking back and forth between the two of them with a strange look on his face.

"What is going on here?" he asked confusedly.

"Um," started George. He wasn't sure what to say. "Is it safe to talk in here?"

"Safe? You mean-"

"Can Grindelwald or Dumbledore hear us?"

James shook his head. "No, they can't. But what would you tell _me _that they can't hear? Is this some type of joke?"

"No, it's not," George said hurriedly. "I swear, it's true."

"And I know that you don't trust us, but it's not actually Fred and George here. Well, I mean, it is Fred and George, but not the other Fred and George, if you know what I mean."

James shook his head at them.

"You two have got to be sick. Why don't you talk to Lucius Malfoy about this? He'll be more of a help."

"We can't talk to him. He'd stab us to death with his pimp stick!" argued Fred.

"Pimp stick?" James asked, trying and failing to stifle a laugh. "Merlin, what happened to Fred and George?"

"They're gone. Or kind of gone, I guess. You see, the two of us are from another dimension where Grindelwald is in Nurmengard, and Dumbledore is a funny old man, and Tom Riddle is a horrible dark wizard who was murdered by your son when he was a baby, but then he got his body back and now he's trying to take over the wizarding world and make it just like this!"

"Wait," James said, chuckling slightly. "You're saying that Grindelwald is in his own prison?"

"Yes, the only one, and in the very top tower," Fred said. "You see, there was only one Nurmengard, and it sure as hell wasn't owned by the Weasleys."

"Okay. And Dumbledore is nothing more than a 'funny old man'?"

"Well, actually he's the leader of a group called the Order of the Phoenix. You see, he's a good wizard in our world. He was the one who defeated Grindelwald when he was trying to rise to power, and he was working on taking out Voldemort, that's Tom Riddle's nickname for himself, when we swapped worlds."

"Alright. So he was the face of the 'light' side against Tom Riddle, a.k.a. Lord Voldemort, the kitchen slave?"

"Precisely."

"And Harry killed this dark lord, when nobody else could, when he was a baby."

"Yup. One year old," George said, fully aware that James wasn't believing a word of what they were saying. "Except he didn't kill him. He banished him from the living world, or something like that."

"And then he got his body back?"

"With some satanistic ritual, yeah," Fred answered.

"So in your dimension, at this moment, Hogwart's head kitchen slave is currently trying to take over the world to make it 'like it is now'?"

Fred and George both cringed.

"Yes, basically."

James took a deep breath.

"And what would possess the two of you to tell me this?"

"Because it's true," pleaded Fred. "We swear. We can prove it. Kind of. Maybe. But it is true. All of it. You've got to believe us. We need to get away from here, back to our world. We've been here for two days, and it's horrible."

"Horrible?" James asked. "Why would you _two _think this is horrible?"

"Look around," George said desperately. "Anyone who's not a pureblood is enslaved or in hiding. I saw a little girl tortured and murdered today, and people were laughing. And I don't even know my family. The Weasleys are poor! We live in a tiny house in Otter St. Catchpole called the Burrow with a ghoul in the attic. Our baby sister isn't a bitch, and Ron isn't the bad son, and Fred and me aren't rapists or murders or anything like that! We run a mail-order joke shop for crying out loud."

James ran a hand through his dark hair and shook his head.

"You actually believe that what you're saying is true," he said unbelievingly.

"It is," Fred insisted.

"Then what are you doing here?"

Fred took a deep breath and quickly told the story about trying to come up with the joke product, and going back in time, and breaking up the fight between the Dumbledores.

"And then we came here, and we have no idea what in the hell we're doing," he finished.

"No, no, no. You guys are crazy. There's no way that you're telling the truth. That's impossible."

"It's true. We can prove it," said Fred. "Um. I just don't know how. But please believe us. We need help, and you're the only one we trust to give it to us, at least so far."

"Why would you trust me?" James asked.

"Because you don't like Grindelwald and Dumbledore," George said, hoping that him and Fred had been correct about the Lily thing. "At least we don't think you do."

"What would make you think that?" he questioned, his brow furrowed.

"Lily," said Fred. "We know that's Harry's mum. And if you loved her enough to take Harry in, then you can't like the people who put her in slavery in the first place, right?"

James looked horrified.

"Did you two make that up just to get me to play along with a stupid story like that? Because you're wrong. I never touched Lily Evans. Harry was my cousin's child. Bella and I adopted him."

"That's bull," George said. "In the other world, where Muggleborns were free, everyone knew about you and Lily. You were, uh, famous." He didn't want James to know that he was dead in their world. Then he'd be even less likely to help them."

"No. He's not my son, he's not her son."

"He is, though," said Fred. "He even has her eyes. He's your son, and you don't care that he's a half-blood. Don't deny it, we aren't going to tell anyone."

"But you can't know that. No one knows that. Lily was pregnant, but she told everyone it was another one of the slave's, that the baby died. Our plan to move Harry went seamlessly. Riddle made sure of that. It would have been impossible to figure out, especially fifteen years after it happened." He looked at them in awe. "You really aren't from here, are you?"

Fred and George breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"No, we aren't. Can you please help us now?"

"I don't know what I could do. Can't you just make another potion and go further back in time?"

"I can't remember what I put in the potion," Fred admitted. "And even if I did, it'd be impossible to fix anything. It's not like we can go back to before we left and tell ourselves not to. That world is gone. And any attempt to go back to the fight between the Dumbledores would still make it come out differently than it would have originally. We'd have to… I don't know. We don't know."

James sighed.

"I'll talk to Riddle. He's brilliant. If anyone would know if there was something you could do, it would be him."

"And if not?" George asked softly.

"If he doesn't?" James took a deep breath. "Then we'll keep searching. If the world you came from is run like you say it is, it sounds like a better place than here. With how powerful the purebloods in this world are, I think that the only chance I'll have to help give Muggleborns freedom is to help you."

"Thank you," said Fred. "But what do you want us to do for now?"

James looked at his watch.

"Do you two have class this hour?"

"No," answered George. "We're done for the day. I think the other versions of us must have been kind of lazy. We don't have very many classes at all."

"You were only taking the classes you needed to take over for your father. It would have been a waste for you to take anything else," James answered. "That's a good thing now, though. You'll have time to work on getting back. But for now, I just want you two acting as normally as possible. If you guys are found out, you'll be killed immediately."

"We kinda figured that," said George.

"Was that why you were screaming at me earlier?"

"Well, no. Um. You see-"

A sharp knocking interrupted Fred. All three wizards quickly whirled towards the door in surprise, then collectively relaxed when Daphne Greengrass poked her golden blond head through the door.

"Yes, Daphne?" James asked, his voice strained. She looked from James to each twin, and then back to James.

"Draco and I were just looking to see if the twins were all right. I heard that Fred fainted, and we were worried since they hadn't come out."

"They're fine," James said. "We were just having a talk. We're finished now. You can have them."

"Um," George said.

"We can talk about your issues with my class more on Wednesday. Stay out of trouble until then."

George sighed. He knew that he should tell James about the old twins trying to take over, but it would look suspicious if they kicked Daphne out. With one last look at James Potter, he followed Daphne and Fred out of the room. Draco was waiting for them in the hallway.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"The stupid prat wasn't respecting us as he should," answered George. "We were discussing possible solutions to deal with his superiority complex."

Daphne shook her head.

"Come on, George. Professor Potter is brilliant. You're the one with the superiority complex. And here I was, thinking that one of you two was hurt." She gave both of them almost disappointed looks with her bright blue eyes.

They both simultaneously pouted and gave her their best puppy-dog looks. She laughed at them and sighed.

"Alright, I forgive you. As long as you come back to the common room with me and protect me from Pansy. I don't know why she insisted on getting the same free period as me, but she's driving me insane."

"Driving you insane?" Draco scoffed. "You're not the one she's trying to feel up."

_My girlfriend? Nice to know how faithful she is. _

"Don't worry, miladies," Fred said with a laugh. "We're always willing to help damsels in distress."

Daphne rolled her eyes and Draco shouted, "Hey!"

Fred and George both laughed, and the four Grindelwalds continued bickering as they made their way back to their common room.

Actually, when George closed his eyes and listened to Fred's laughed, heard Draco's joking drawl and Daphne's spunk laugh, it almost felt like they _were _his friends, could almost feel at home at Hogwarts. He could forget that he may never get home, that him and Fred had just placed their lives in the hands of a man they'd known for just over an hour, and that he was in a living hell. He could almost pretend that everything was normal.

If only that were true.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you liked it, and thanks to-<strong>

**Ladybug-pop**,** .me, solid as a cloud, anonomous,MoonBeam2254, Alice Primrose Granger, LaffyTraffy76, Misses Prongs, brooke13243546,Hahukum Konn, smileysgoboing**

**I'd also like to thank everyone else who has favorited or put this on story alert. Cookies to all my awesome readers. And just because I know that you're all going to forgive me for my late update, I'll try to have the next chapter up by the weekend. Thanks. **

**~bballgirl32~ **


	7. Everything You Know is Wrong

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**Everything you know is wrong**_

_**Black is white, up is down and short is long**_

_**And everything you thought was so just so **_

_**Important doesn't matter**_

_**Everything you know is wrong **_

_**Everything You Know is Wrong, Weird Al Yankovic**_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

"Hello class, and welcome to N.E.W.T level transfiguration."

Fred and George both stifled groans. They ended up in some alternate dimension where everything was messed up and yet they still had transfiguration with Minerva McGonagall. It was like the fates were just trying to keep their detention a week streak going strong.

"Now, by now all of you know that this class is very, very dangerous. However, I trust each and every one of you to make it as safe as possible. You know all of the rules in and out, and I am confident that you all will follow them. Is this confidence well placed?"

"Yes, Professor," the entire class chorused.

"Good. Now, we are going to start out by working on transfiguring individual parts of human beings. I do not think myself a cruel person, so although I will allow you to use your slaves as practice, I will not tolerate any unnecessary spells or transfigurations directed towards them. Is this clear?"

Fred almost wanted to dance. She was still good old Minnie.

"Yes, Professor."

"Very good. Now, summon your slaves if you are planning to, and then I shall explain the first step."

Fred and George exchanged a look. This was wrong, but Fred also had a feeling that the other twins never would have hesitated. Besides, they weren't doing anything cruel. McGonagall would make sure of that.

Finally, very hesitantly, Fred pulled out his bell and rang it. George followed a moment later. Fred only hoped that Lee would be well enough to make it through the class period.

When Hermione appeared, she was clearly mad. Her eyes quickly took in everyone else in the class, and Fred sighed.

"Don't say anything."

And her mouth snapped shut because she couldn't. Lee popped in a moment later, and Fred released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His best friend was fine. Skeletally thin, maybe, but his leg and skin were both completely healed.

"Now, attention back up front," McGonagall snapped. Hermione gave Fred a look that could kill a person and held it. Even while Fred was trying to focus on his professor, he could still feel Hermione's gaze burning through him.

"For today, all that you are going to do is work on changing hair color. It may be extremely simple, but I want you to get used to transfiguring part of a person before we delve into more complicated work. You do not need to use special incantations or wand movements. Now, you may begin."

"Okay, Doll," Fred said with a grin. "What color would you like your hair to be today?"

She gave him a pointed look.

"Okay, speak but please don't say anything bad. I have a reputation to keep up," he said pleadingly, speaking as softly as he could so that others wouldn't overhear him.

She opened her mouth to say something, but it shut uncomfortably when the words she wanted to say wouldn't come out.

"Good. Now what color would you like?"

She grit her teeth.

"I'm making it diarrhea green if you don't tell me." Her mouth stayed firmly clamped shut. Fred took a hesitant step forward and picked up a strand of her hair. He could feel her tense up at his touch, but he kept a smile on his face. "Actually, puke green wouldn't suit you. What about bright pink?"

She made a face. Fred brought his wand up to her head and pointed it at the hair in his hand, turning the bit of it electric pink.

"Cute highlights. Would you like more?"

He put down the pink strand of hair and lifted another one. "What about bright yellow? That's such a cheery color. You look like you need some cheer."

"If you dare-" He tapped the hair and turned it bright yellow.

"I dared. Now what?" he asked her with a grin. He was having more fun with this than he'd ever want to admit.

She tried to speak, but no words came out.

"Huh. Seems like you can't think of anything nice to say. Maybe you need more cheer. Orange makes people smile, doesn't it?" He picked up another strand and turned it neon orange.

"Stop. Please."

"Why? Because you're enjoying this too much? Look at how much fun you're having compared to the others." It was true. The other slaves were being snapped at and pushed around, all of them staring at the ground and frowning. Even Lee, whose short hair was a vibrant blue, was looking straight at the ground even as George tried to coerce him into talking.

"Fun," she scoffed.

"Well, I think it's fun," he argued, turning a new piece of hair lime green. She crossed her arms, a lot like a petulant child, and stood there while Fred kept sorting through her hair and turning various strands different colors.

"Red and yellow and pink and green. Purple and orange and blue. I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, too," he sang happily under his breath.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

"Singing the rainbow song," said Fred with a lopsided smile. He knew that people watching would probably wonder what he was smiling about, but the fact that Hermione was so pissed off would take away any suspicion.

"There's no pink in a rainbow," she said dryly.

"Yes, but there's pink in your hair."

"You are insufferable."

"No, I'm being friendly. You're being insufferable." He picked up another piece of hair and changed it fire engine red. "And you look like a clown, too."

She opened her mouth, but then shut it again when whatever she wanted to say couldn't.

"Wow. I could only guess what that was supposed to be," Fred told her as he ruffled his hair. A second later he felt a somewhat imposing presence behind him. "Hello, Minnie."

"Five points from Grindelwald for addressing a teacher in such a disrespectful manner."

"My apologies, Professor," he said sweetly. "I completely forgot."

"You are not above the rules, Mister Weasley."

"If I thought I was, I would have been mad at you for taking the points, wouldn't have I?"

She pursed her lips, but turned her eyes to Hermione.

"Very colorful," she said. "And no physical damage. I do believe that is a first."

"I wouldn't do anything to harm this little bird. She's too precious," Fred told her. His professor blanched. Fred gave her a stern look. "I'm serious. Merlin, Professor. Get your mind out of the gutter."

He got a real glare for that one, but she only said, "Watch yourself, Weasley."

"That's kind of hard without a mirror."

"Another five points from Grindelwald. Now it would do you good to turn your slave's hair back to normal."

"Ah, but it's so much better this way."

"Mister Weasley," she said from between clenched teeth.

"Yes, Professor," he told her, ducking his eyes from her stern gaze. She sent him one more look, then continued on to check on Lee and George.

"Wow," said Fred. "She's positively terrifying. I think you two would get along well."

"Well, she seems to hate you. We already have one thing in common," she said. Fred widened his eyes in mock surprise.

"It seems that you do know how to speak in full sentences after all, Miss Granger. How impressive."

She bit her lip.

"You know my last name, too."

"I know a lot about you that you wouldn't think I would," he told her, then grinned and gave her a pat on the head. "Run along now. Unless you like being out of your cell. In which case you can carry my books to the Dark Arts for me."

"I don't think-"

"You could stay and watch the class," he offered, knowing that she wouldn't be able to pass up the opportunity to gain knowledge. "You know, in case you need to grab me a quill or something."

"Fine," she muttered. "I'll carry your books to your bloody class."

"Great. Now we just have to wait for the word, and we can be off."

The two of them sat in silence as McGonagall finished checking the other slaves' hair. She said something about working on skin-color the next class, then dismissed them. Fred muttered a quick lightening charm on his books, then dumped them into Hermione arms before waving George over.

"Okay, Hermione, this is George."

"Please stop calling me that."

"Hermione? Okay, then. George, from this point onwards, call her 'Mione."

"Hullo, 'Mione," said George cheerfully.

She gave him a dirty look. It got ten times dirtier when Cassius Warrington came sauntering up to them. He started to say something to the two of them, but then his eyes rested on Hermione. He raised a dark brow.

"Your slave?"

"Yeah," he answered, somewhat cautiously.

"That couldn't have been cheap."

"Has money ever been an issue for me?" he asked, feeling like a total moron while doing it.

"I suppose not," Cassius answered, then fell into step next to them. Hermione didn't say a word the entire way to The Dark Arts while Fred and George struggled to maintain Quidditch conversation with Warrington.

Eventually they made it to the old Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. When they walked in, a very short, very large man was toddling around the front of the room as he addressed various students. The moment that he saw the three of them walk into the room, he waddled over.

"If he so much as invites me to go to a bloody Slug Club meeting, I am going to shove my wand up his eye-socket," Cassius muttered as Professor Slughorn took his place in front of them with a wide smile.

"Cassius, Fred, George!" he said excitedly. "My three favorite students. It's been so long. I trust that you had good summers?"

"Wonderful," Warrington answered, trying to inconspicuously step around him. The big man stepped in front of him and cut him off.

"Good, good. And I trust that I can expect you three at the Slug Club meeting tomorrow night?"

"Well, I really and truly apologize, but I'm afraid that I didn't realize the meeting was tomorrow, and I scheduled Quidditch tryouts."

"Oh, that's too bad. Fred, George?"

"Er-"

"I need them at tryouts," answered Cassius. "We're trying out for a new chaser, and I need to see how they react getting pelted by bludgers."

"But-"

"I truly, truly apologize Professor. Maybe next time." Then Warrington pushed past him with a muttered, "Yeah, right." Fred and George both sent their professor what were supposed to be apologetic smiles, but Fred was pretty sure they winded up looking like smirks. Already the man drove him nuts, and by Warrington's reactions, the Slug Club meetings weren't something that he wanted to attend.

After muttering to himself for a few moments, Slughorn regained his composure and took his place at the front of the classroom.

"Now, I'm sure you've already heard about your N.E.W.T.s and have sat through too many lectures to count so far this year, so I will avoid that. Instead, I believe it most proficient to start in on teaching you a wonderful new skill. Now, does anyone know what a reanimated corpse is called?"

Cassius raised his hand lazily.

"Yes, Mister Warrington?"

"An inferius."

"Good. Now, who knows how to charm a dead body?"

Fred felt like he was going to be sick for the rest of the lesson. All they talked about was turning dead animals into zombies. Their teacher talked about getting dead birds to work on the next day, and he had an inkling that they'd be working over the body of a slave once they progressed that far. He could only hope that him and George would be long gone before that happened. He'd known that they'd be learning the Dark Arts, but he hadn't expected something like _that. _

When Slughorn finally dismissed the class, Fred let out a relieved breath and hurried from the room. Him and George both exchanged a look as they headed to the Great Hall, but said nothing. Saying something wouldn't make any difference. They shouldn't have been so surprised anyway. The class _was_ called The Dark Arts.

"Would you like for me to leave, Master?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

"Did you just call me Master?" he asked. Merlin, he felt like Lord Voldemort.

"I have to," she answered simply.

"What if I ordered you not to?"

"Your order would overrule the charms that were put on me, but I would rather-"

"I give you permission to call me whatever you like. I would prefer Fred, but I'm sure there are a lot of inappropriate options that you will choose instead."

"Would you like for me to leave, Arse-Licker?"

"Yeah. I s'pose you should," he told her. "Go to Tom Riddle again and ask for whatever food you want. Just tell him that it's for George and I."

"If you insist, Shit-Face."

"I do, 'Mione." Then she was gone.

"I think I'm growing on her," Fred told George with a grin.

"I think she thinks that you're the scum of the earth," his twin answered. Fred shrugged.

"Well, now that James knows, and he's telling Riddle, I'm thinking about telling her soon, since they'll have my back. Then it'll be better."

"Hopefully," George said.

"What about you and Lee?"

George looked down. "I dunno, Fred. He didn't say much, but maybe if he knows he can be part of a super-rebel scheme to save the world as we know it, he'll start talking more."

"Oh, of course he will," said Fred. Then the two of them continued into the Great Hall for lunch.

"Hi, Georgie," Pansy said sweetly when she saw Fred.

"Wrong twin, Pans," he said absentmindedly. "No wonder my brother wants to dump you."

"W-What?" she asked her lip quivering.

"I said that George wants-"

"Fred," a voice said.

"I would hope to God that George doesn't want you," Draco drawled from across from them. Fred couldn't help but laugh at the blonde-haired boy. His sarcastic humor was actually kind of amusing. Sometimes.

"Well, I am the hottest bloke in the school," Fred joked before turning to see who had addressed him. Ron was standing behind him with Harry by his side. "You called?"

"Harry's dad just told us that he has something special for you and George in the kitchens. George looks kind of busy, but I think it's important."

Fred glanced at his brother. A seething, demon-eyed Pansy was already spitting at him. "I think both of us should go. But thanks, Ron. You got any idea what this is for?"

"Nah. He just stopped us and told me to tell you. Do you have any idea what it is? I thought Professor Potter hated you two."

"We're getting on better this year," said Fred. He looked to see if Harry reacted to anything they were saying, but he wasn't even looking at them. "What's your problem, Harry?"

"He was up late finishing a potions essay yesterday. He's just tired," said Ron dismissively. "Now, are you going to go to the kitchens?"

"What's it to you?"

"Well, I kind of wanted to come with." Fred stood up.

"Nope. Private information. No annoying little brothers allowed. Now run along and make out with Parvarti or something."

He ignored Ron's indignant look and turned to tap George on the shoulder.

"Come on, we're going to go get some dessert," Fred whispered in his ear, interrupting Pansy's tirade. Relief colored George's face.

"Yes, let's go get some dessert," he said quickly, then looked at Pansy. "Sorry, but I have to go. You're dumped, by the way. You can cuss me out later." Then the two twins got up to leave.

"What are we really doing?" George asked as they made their way out of the Great Hall.

"I honestly have no idea," answered Fred. "Ron just told us that James has something special for us in the kitchens." George nodded, and the two of them continued on to the portrait of the pear as they tossed ideas of what could be awaiting them back and forth.

Soon enough, they arrived at the picture. George reached forward and tickled the pear, and then the two of them hopped into the kitchens.

The place was bustling, just like it had been when Fred was there before. Several slaves were waving plastic wands, sending huge stacks of dishes to the sinks to begin washing themselves. Leftover food was being packed away in plastic boxes, no doubt for the slaves to eat later on. New food was being made as well, around all of the clean-up work.

The twins hesitated for a moment, not sure where they should go. That was when Tom Riddle stepped forward to greet them. He wasn't at all surprised, or cautious, as he was the previous time. Instead his eyes seemed to be looking over every inch of each of the twins. They both shrank back.

"James tells me that the two of you have something to tell me. He didn't want to say anything because he wasn't sure of the details, but he says that he knows I can trust you two. Is this true?"

They both nodded furiously.

"Positively one-hundred percent true," said George.

"A thousand percent true," amended Fred.

Riddle regarded both of them with dark gray eyes before saying, "Alright. I trust James, even if I don't trust the two of you. Now follow me."

Riddle led them through the kitchen and to a wooden door at the very end of the room. Fred didn't remember seeing it before, but then again, he'd never been more than a few feet into the kitchens.

Inside of the door was nothing more than a large pantry, stacked with what appeared to be a years worth of nonperishable foods. Lesser quantities of fruits and vegetables were held in bins that lined the walls.

"What is this about?" Riddle asked when they were all alone.

The twins took a simultaneous breath before explaining everything to Riddle. His expression didn't change the entire time, and he asked no questions, not even when they grudgingly told him about Lord Voldemort.

When they were finally finished, he stared at them very hard for a few moments before speaking.

"I have several books that have been passed down through my family-"

"You got to keep them when you were captured?"

"I receive better treatment than most because of my ancestry," said Riddle dismissively. "Now, I'm not promising you anything, but if there is something that will help you, it will be in one of Slytheirn's books."

"But Slytherin… Wouldn't that be dark magic?" asked Fred.

Riddle shrugged.

"In my opinion, it is not the means a person uses by which you consider something dark, but rather the ends that come from those means."

Fred shivered at how much that sounded like something Voldemort would say.

"If you insist. Are you going to look, or do you want us to?"

"I will look. It is not worth risking someone catching you with those books, especially because they know that they are mine."

"Okay. What do you want us to do?"

"First and foremost, I want the two of you to appear to act normally."

"Like we haven't already thought of that," said George. "What else?"

Tom looked at them very closely.

"James will give you another meeting time after your class with him tomorrow. We want to talk to you about a couple of other ideas that we have. For now, I should let you get back to class."

"Alright. We'll meet with you soon."

Then the twins left the pantry, leaving Riddle behind so it wouldn't be quite as suspicious. Lily caught Fred's eye on the way out, and he shot her his best grin before they left.

The moment that they were out of the kitchens, Ron and Harry appeared right in front of them, seemingly out of nowhere. Fred leapt backwards, his heart leaping into his throat.

"Where in Merlin's name did you come from?" George asked breathlessly.

The two boys only stared at them. Fred felt like he was going to be sick.

"I have an invisibility cloak," whispered Harry. "My dad gave it to me."

"Bloody hell. You weren't supposed to follow us!" Fred said, his gut clenching in horror.

"Calm down, Fred. They didn't follow us. They were just waiting outside," said George. "Right? You guys didn't hear anything, did you?"

"George," said Ron. "We heard everything."

Fred cursed under his breath. This was not good.

**A/N- **

**Got it up by the end of the weekend, just like I said even if it is a little short. I'm actually kind of proud of myself, especially since all of you guys were so awesome with the reviews. Ten for last chapter, and in not even a week. Now for the individual thanks. **

**Person who did not give me a name, ****Clapika25512,** **LaffyTraffy76,**** Misses Prongs,** **.me, ****brooke13243546, ****Alice Primrose Granger, ****solid as a cloud, ****MoonBeam2254, ****Hahukum Konn**

**Now that that's all finished, all of my wonderful reviewers get chocolate chip cookies, and everyone else receives loads of thanks for reading. Please keep it up. **

**~bballgirl32~ **


	8. You've Got a Friend in Me

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**You've got troubles, well I've got 'em too**_

_**There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you**_

_**we stick together and we see it through**_

_**You've got a friend in me**_

_**You've Got a Friend in Me, **__**Randy Newman**_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

"And now we're here, and trying to get back home," finished Fred. George and him had taken the two boys back into the kitchens and explained as little to them as possible, being especially careful to leave out anything about Harry's parents. It wasn't their place to tell him about that, and they really didn't want to burden him with unnecessary information.

"Wow," said Ron, his eyes shining. "Are you going to save everybody now?"

"Um. We're going to go back in time and make things right all over again," said George. "If that's what you mean."

It wasn't, though. George could see that.

"But what about _us_?" asked Ron.

"You'll all just go back to normal," said Fred hurriedly. "This world isn't even supposed to exist, and we're just going to go and fix it."

"So you're saying I'm not real?" asked Ron, his temper clearly starting to flare.

"No, I didn't say that, but-"

"But you're just going to leave us," Ron interrupted.

"Once we fix things, you aren't even going to remember this," said Fred. "It's not like we're leaving the world in shambles."

"What if I don't want to forget, though? You're going to take away hundreds of peoples lives, and they don't even get a say in it!"

George could see where his brother was coming from, but he didn't care. This stupid world wasn't even supposed to exist, and they wouldn't be taking away anyone's lives. They'd be giving them back... unless you counted the people killed by Voldemort. But most of them were enslaved in this world anyway.

He shook his head to clear it. No matter who was dead and who was alive, the world wasn't supposed to be like this, and him and Fred had to change it back.

"Ron," pleaded George, trying to make his brother see sense. "We couldn't help, anyway. We're just two people."

"But-"

"Is my mum free?" Harry asked softly, interrupting Ron. "In the other world, is she free?"

George froze.

"Wait. You know about that?"

"My dad told me, yeah," said Harry. "Ron knows, too."

"Bloody hell, what'd you tell Ron for?" Fred asked. "That's dangerous."

"I'd never give Harry up," Ron protested.

"I trust him," answered Harry simply. "But can you please tell me if my mum is free. Because if she is, I don't care what happens to this world, as long as she's okay."

"Well," Fred said, coughing slightly. He looked at George with pleading eyes, but George didn't know what to say either. They needed Harry on their side when Ron was acting so crazy, but lying to him? That was cruel, and wrong, and... and they had to do it.

"She's fine," George finally said. "Actually, she was Head Girl her final year at Hogwarts, and she became a huge hero in the war against Voldemort after that."

Harry smiled a little, and George felt terrible for telling him that, but it had to be done. Otherwise he'd start asking them to stay, too, and George really didn't want that. Staying wasn't an option.

"I knew she'd be brilliant if she got the chance to be," said Harry, his green eyes gleaming proudly. Guilt burned white hot in George's chest.

"But Harry, everything is going to be completely different if they go and change things again," protested Ron glumly.

"You'll still be best friends," said Fred. "Maybe even closer than you are now."

"Really?" their brother asked hopefully. Thankfully that was enough to get him to quit glaring, anyway.

"Yeah, really. So things won't be all that bad."

"I still wish that you'd stay and help us," he said.

"You don't need our help," said Fred. "Now we really have to get to potions, so we'll see you later. And I don't think we need to remind you not to tell anyone."

"We aren't stupid," said Ron.

"That's debatable," George joked. He paused, then asked, "And speaking of stupid, what did you do to get Ginny to treat you like the back end of a hippogriff?"

Ron looked down at his feet, clearly not wanting to talk about it. Whatever 'it' was.

"Harry's dad is kind of known for not treating Muggleborns 'as they should be treated'. She just doesn't like that I hang out with him."

"Ah. And that's why Fred and I didn't have the best relationship with him either?"

"Partly," said Ron nervously. There was more, George could tell, but he wasn't interested in prying. He'd found out enough bad things about himself. He didn't need any more.

"Alright," he said, and then him and Fred left to go to potions.

….

George snuck out onto the grounds by himself later that night, his bell clutched tightly in his hand. Despite Fred's assurances, he wasn't sure about Lee. His best friend had been completely dead when he'd summoned him earlier that morning, and it scared the crap out of him.

Once he was far enough away from the school that he was confident he wouldn't be caught, he rang the bell, then waited. Lee immediately appeared in front of him, emancipated and clearly unhealthy.

"You okay?" George asked him. The only response that he received was a pair of dark black pools peering at him emotionlessly. "Hungry?"

More emotionless peering. George dug into his cloak and pulled out a paper bag he'd gotten from Lily. He pulled out a fried chicken sandwich, doused in barbecue sauce, with lettuce and tomatoes on top. Lee's favorite.

The shell of his best friend reached up and grabbed the sandwich, looked at it, then took a tentative bite. Something flashed in his eyes then, just for a moment, and he almost looked blissful.

"Made specially for you," said George. Lee took another bite, chewed carefully, and then looked at George.

"Why?"

"Because no one deserves to be treated like you were, and this is my pathetic way of trying to make it up to you," he answered honestly, not caring that it was suspicious. He felt bad for his friend, and he wasn't going to make it worse by playing a jerk.

The slave took a couple more slow, methodical bites while George waited for an answer.

"You're not like the Weasley twins I have heard about," he finally said.

"I have an explanation for that," said George. "But I probably shouldn't tell you without my brother's consent."

"You're not the real twins, are you?" he asked, those dark eyes seeming to peer into George's soul. In them he could see more sorrow and suffering than any human being should have to bare. It nearly made him sick.

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you."

"Are you here to save us?" he pressed desperately.

George looked away from his old friend and looked out into the forest, trying to think of what he could possibly say. He wanted to tell him everything, but Fred seemed so sure that it'd be a huge risk to tell their slaves anything. It would be, too, with them in the custody of their mother. Maybe later. Sometime.

"Lee," he whispered finally. "I can't tell you yet, but I will soon. I just want you to know that you can trust us, and that you can ask me if you need anything. I really need to be getting back, but if you want something…"

"I'm okay for now," he said, polishing off the last of his sandwich. "And I won't say anything, either. And good luck, doing whatever it is that you're trying to do."

_Why does everyone think that we're their saviors? _

"Thanks," said George, and then Lee disappeared. He started back to his room, then decided that he could do with some food of his own first. The redhead snuck back into the castle, and was just reaching up to tickle the portrait of the pear when the painting swung open.

A familiar head of red hair stepped out.

"Holy crap, George! You scared me!" Ginny screeched, a cookie in her hand. She was already wearing a pair of silk polka dot pajamas, and her hair was hanging in wet strands around her face. She even had on a pair of bunny slippers.

He was shocked, but managed to get over it enough to tease her, anyway.

"That's my goal in life. Cute outfit by the way. I'm going to need a pair of those slippers for myself."

"Oh, bugger," she said as she moved a hand up to cover her face. Probably because her hair wasn't done or something like that. "Do _not _look at me. I'm not decent!"

He laughed amusedly, more than surprised that his bitchy sister was acting almost like normal Ginny.

"Alright. I'm not looking. But what were you doing in the kitchens?"

Her face turned defensive, but there was something not quite right about her eyes. George tilted his head to get a closer look at her, but she backed away and roughly snapped, "Nothing. I was just getting food. Now quit acting like such a moron and just go do whatever you were going to do."

"Wow. Okay, okay. It's not like I care whether you have makeup on or not," he muttered, then left his red-faced sister behind and climbed into the kitchens to grab his food.

…

George's first classes passed quickly the next day, and lunch was boring, as always, with Cassius spending the entire time talking about Quidditch tryouts that night. It seemed like hardly any time passed at all when they stepped into Battle Training.

James instructed the class to take a lap, and then he said that they were starting on stations. They were to break off into groups of four, and then rotate between dueling, boxing, and wrestling every twenty minutes.

Fred and George went with Cassius and Jared, both of them more than a little nervous that they were going to get themselves killed.

They quickly realized that their fears were unfounded. Cassius and Jared partnered together in everything, leaving Fred and George to do their worst at the stations without worrying about humiliating themselves. They were tired when class was done, but at least they were in one piece.

"Mister Weasley and Mister Weasley, please stay after," James said to them as the other students filed out. Fred and George faked annoyance, then hurried back to the teacher when the other students had left.

"Do the two of you know about the Room of Requirement?"

"Um. No."

"Very well. On the seventh floor, there is a tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy trying to teach trolls how to do ballet. To get into the room, you are to pace back and forth in front of it three times, thinking that you need a place to discuss something privately. A door will appear, and that will give you entrance to the Room of Requirement."

"Um. Okay. Is that where we're meeting?"

"Yes, and we shall continue to meet there as well. It is the safest place in the school that we can think of. Dumbledore and Grindelwald do not even know of its existence."

George wasn't so sure about that, but if James believed that it was the safest place in the school, he wasn't going to argue with him.

"Alright. What time?"

"Eight o'clock. I expect to see you then."

"We've got Quidditch tryouts at seven. Can we meet a half hour later instead?"

"Okay, fine. Eight thirty. Now you should leave."

"Well, actually, do you have a moment, Professor?" Fred asked.

"Sure. Why?"

"Um. Your son and our little brother kind of found it necessary to use an invisibility cloak to listen in on our conversation with Riddle earlier," said George.

"Harry knows!" James asked, his eyes widening with shock and horror, maybe even fear.

"And Ron, unfortunately. Don't blame us, though. Riddle didn't know they were there, either. We've already explained everything to them, so you don't have a reason to worry."

James ran a hand through his inky hair.

"Okay. I'm not mad. I'll, I'll talk to Harry again just to make sure that he understands the importance of this. You guys shouldn't hang around any longer, though. It's kind of suspicious."

With that, the twins left him.

…..

Four hours of essays and studying later, they were standing outside with Cassius, Draco, and Roger. There was a crowd of boys in front of them, mostly second through fourth years.

Cassius gave a quick speech, then divided the boys into two separate groups, one for potential keepers, the other for chasers. Fred, George, and Draco were sent to help the chasers.

Draco, who was the only one who actually knew what to do, ordered the chaser hopefuls into a line, to see how they could shoot. Fred would toss them a quaffle, and then they'd charge at Draco, who was filling in as keeper, and try to score. After the line was finished, the three Grindelwalds decided who the top five were, and then Fred and George had them fly up and down the pitch while they shot bludgers at them.

It seemed to take forever, and they knew they were cutting it close with their meeting, but finally there was one kid left on his broom, a third year named Thomas Flint. Fred and George gave him the spot, then hurried back to their dorms to change and meet James and Riddle.

The two men were deep in conversation when Fred and George ran into the room at exactly eight thirty.

"Sorry, we aren't late, are we?" George asked breathlessly. James looked at him almost sadly, but Riddle only shook his head, his eyes blank.

"No, you aren't," Riddle said. James started to speak, but the older man rushed on. "Now, I have found a… spell, of sorts that can get you back to an exact moment in time. There is no way that you will be able to stop yourselves from getting in the middle of the fight, but you may still be able to stop Dumbledore and Grindelwald from retaining their friendship."

James was gaping at Riddle, his eyes hard, but George hardly even noticed.

"We'll take it," said George. Him and Fred could ruin anything given enough time. He saw no reason why they couldn't ruin a friendship. "When can you do it for us?"

"It's not as simple as he's making it sound," said James. "This thing that he found, it's not a spell so much as a ritual. He wasn't supposed to tell you about it."

Now that did not sound good.

"Ritual?" asked George.

"That would be one word for it," Riddle said stiffly, glaring at James. "However, if it is your only chance at getting back, I would expect you to take it for the sake of the world."

"What does this 'ritual' entail?" asked Fred.

"A few runes, a circle of fire, a simple sacrifice, and an easily remembered incantation," said Riddle dismissively.

James glared at him, as if he were trying to get the other man to continue, but Riddle kept his mouth shut.

"He's not telling you everything," said James finally. "The runes must be written in unicorn blood, and the sacrifice must be _human_. Do not listen to him about that spell. There are others. You have already proved that you can make a potion for timetravel, perhaps we can experiment with that. We didn't call you here to talk about getting you back. What Tom found… it was just the first thing he came across. He wasn't really serious about doing it."

George was reeling from surprise, but he still saw how cold Riddle's eyes went. James was wrong. He had been serious. But why…?

_Because sending him and Fred back would put him in a position to rule the world._ That was probably the only reason that he was helping them in the first place. Why else would he even care? Maybe James trusted him, but from that moment on, George decided that he wouldn't.

"Okay, that's fine. We'll wait for something else. Although we appreciate the option, Riddle," Fred said as he gave the older man a cold glare. "Now what _did _you want us to talk about?"

"Well," said James. The black-haired man took a deep breath, then continued, "The two of you know things about people in this world that most of them wouldn't expect for you to know. You are both rich and in a position of power, not to mention that you have the means of releasing thousands of Muggleborns, half-bloods, and pureblood 'traitors' from your father's prisons. I'm not saying that you aren't going to get back to your own time, but just incase you don't, I think that you should consider helping to spark a rebellion."

Rebellion?

"No, no, no," said George. "I'm not going to get myself killed before I get a chance to even go home. Besides, it'd be pointless. Why would we do something like that when spending time getting us home would simply fix everything?"

"Because there is the more miniscule chance that you _may _not get back."

"If it comes down to the worst case scenario, we'll do Voldemort's little dark and deadly scheme," said Fred, even though George could see that his brother was just saying that to get James off their back.

"Voldemort?" hissed Riddle. "How dare you insinuate… I am trying to help you…"

"Help us my arse," snapped Fred so irritably that George wondered if it was him or the other Fred. "I know exactly what you're trying to do. You just want us to make things go back to the way they were because you weren't a bloody kitchen slave! You know that you're pathetic in this world, and you can't stand the fact that you are beneath us!"

"Stop it!" shouted James. The noise died down instantly, ending with Fred and George sending their best death glares in Riddle's direction. "Good. Now you two can go. I think that we all need to cool down a little bit. I want you to think about what I said, though. You can set up another meeting with us later on to say your final decision."

"Don't bring Voldemort," said George.

"Yeah. He might want us to start murdering unicorns," said Fred darkly.

James opened his mouth to scold them, but they were already gone, leaving a steaming Riddle and a frustrated James behind. Fred staggered a moment later, and George didn't miss it, but his brother didn't say anything, so he decided that he didn't need to either.


	9. Do You Want to Know a Secret?

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.**_

_**Listen, Do you want to know a secret? **_

_**Do you promise not to tell, whoa, oh**_

_**Closer, let me whisper in your ear**_

_**Say the words you long to hear.**_

_**Do You Want To Know a Secret, The Beatles**_

**_.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx._**

Hermione Granger had just woken up when she felt the familiar tug in her gut, the one that told her that she had to get her butt up and apparate to wherever Fred Weasley was, or be dragged quite painfully there against her will. Clenching her jaw, she quickly stood and turned, making the journey to her _wonderful _owner much easier than it would have been had she tried to resist.

A moment later she was standing directly in front of the stocky redhead with the crazy brown eyes. There was a light breeze blowing through her hair, and the air was so pure and clean that she knew she was outside before she even bothered to look around. Trying not to be too obvious, Hermione took a generous breath of fresh air, relieved for the change from the musty dungeons.

"Good morning, Mione," her master told her in a voice that seemed to be genial. In a voice that she would have believed to actually be genial if it had been almost anyone else speaking to her. But it was Fred Weasley, son of the prison warden, notorious rapist and murderer. The one who spies would come back with stories about that gave Hermione nightmares.

Yes, all that he had done was slap her so far, but she was waiting for him to try something else. She was waiting for his perfectly friendly façade to crumble. Or maybe she was waiting for him to go crazy, because there had been times where she wondered if he wasn't genuinely insane. At least that would explain the reason why he would be perfectly friendly around her, and then flip out when he lost his temper.

Besides, that explanation made everything else a lot less confusing. It also made it easier to hate him and treat him like he deserved to be treated when her conscience protested against it.

"Go crawl in a hole and die," Hermione snapped at him, glaring at him instead of returning his greeting. He had done this the past three days. She had insulted him every single time, pushing him in an attempt to get him to snap. He'd only actually touched her once, just for that one slap, but she'd gotten him yelling every one of the three days.

"Oh, no," the stupid waste of human flesh said, shaking his head. "You aren't going to insult me today."

"Why not? Are you going to order me not to?"

"No," he said stubbornly. "I'm going to _ask _you to listen. I want ten minutes of your time, Mione, and then, if you still want to yell and shout and whatnot, I will let you."

"Do not call me Mione."

"I tried calling you Hermione, but you didn't like it. I'm not going to call you anything other than your first name, so get used to it," he said. "Now, will you promise to listen to me?"

She glared at him. She didn't want to listen to him, but her pride would not be happy if she forced him to order her to.

"Can't you do this some other time? I know that you have classes that you're probably just dying to attend," she tried.

"You aren't getting away that easily. I have a free period first hour, so we've got an hour and a half to talk."

Running a hand through her impossibly messy, filthy, hair, she twisted her lips into a scowl.

"Fine. Tell me whatever it is that you just _have _to tell me," she said bitterly.

"Well," he said, fidgeting slightly. God, he looked so nervous and unsure, so _human. _She hated it. "Erm. Do you want to maybe take a seat?"

"I'm fine standing," she said. He raked a hand through his shaggy red hair.

"If you insist. Merlin, I should have brought George with me. Actually, I was planning on explaining this to you with a couple of people who could actually prove that everything I say is true, but I'm not asking one of those people for anything at the moment, and the other one gives me looks that make me feel really, really guilty whenever I see him, so I'm kind of just winging this, and if you don't believe me, then I guess-"

"You're babbling," she interrupted apathetically.

"Huh?"

"You. Are. Babbling."

"Oh, right. Sorry. I do that when I'm nervous. Now, what I was trying to say is that what I'm going to tell you is going to sound very, very crazy, but I swear that it is true. You cannot go and say anything about any of this to Snape, or anyone in my family, or anyone else that you get a chance to talk to."

She was tempted to make a scathing comment, to snap at him to force her to keep her mouth shut, but something in his eyes took away her ability to do anything except for nod.

"Okay, thank you. Now, you have clearly heard numerous rumors about my brother and me, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, those rumors were all about different people."

She snorted. She should have expected something like that.

"So they were about another set of Weasley twins?"

"Well, yes," he said. She opened her mouth to call him something synonymous with stupid and dumb, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Please let me finish my explanation, okay?"

"Just hurry up," she hissed.

"Now, my brother and I, like I said, aren't the other Fred and George. We're completely different people, from a different dimension."

_He really is crazy. _

"Um, you see, in our own dimension, the two of us were just starting up a joke shop, and we were experimenting with these candies that could take a person back for just a couple minutes in time. You know, like to take back embarrassing comments, or maybe to erase a bad first kiss or something. Only I've never been the most careful person ever, and I kind of didn't study the potion that I'd made quite as good as I should have."

_He can't actually be telling the truth, can he? _Hermione wondered, taking in his earnest expression. He had no reason to make up this elaborate lie, but still…

"Well, I end up dropping a vial of that potion, and it zaps us back ninety years or so, to when Grindelwald and Dumbledore weren't much older than us. They were having a huge fight, with tons of yelling and everything, the kind of fight that would ruin friendships. And then George and I ended up breaking it up."

_Wait. If he's serious, then he's saying that Dumbledore and Grindelwald would have quit speaking to each other, that they wouldn't have taken over the world together, that things would have been so much different… _

She shook her head. She shouldn't believe any of that crap. He was lying. He had to be lying.

"After that, I use the counter-potion to get us back in time, figuring that nothing was wrong. Then my older brother comes up to us and says that it's time to go pet shopping. I end up buying you because I knew you before. And you know Lee, George's slave? He was our best friend."

"That doesn't make sense," Hermione said desperately, her heart going against all of her instincts and common sense in thinking that he really was telling the truth.

"I know, okay," he said, starting to twiddle his thumbs. "But just hear me out, please?"

She was too entranced by his story to protest.

"Fine."

"Alright, so we get our slaves and get sent to school, and neither of us know what we're doing. Tom Riddle, the kitchen slave, had been a dark lord in the other world. James Potter was dead, and he sure as hell wasn't married to Bellatrix Lestrange. Dumbledore was an old man with an affinity for lemon drops, and Grindelwald was locked in Nurmengard. You can see why we'd be confused."

Hermione bit her lip as she took all of this in. Coming up with all of that would be ridiculous, the head kitchen slave had always seemed off to her, and Dumbledore was considered the more fair one of the pair of rulers. It just fit. Except…

"If you're such a good guy, why'd you slap me? Why do you yell at me?"

He looked at the ground.

"Because that's another thing. George and I are losing control. It's like… we took over the other Fred and George's lives, and usually we're good, but at points where they would have felt something strongly, it's like they come out again. That's why we really have to get out of here, because neither of us know if it'll get stronger."

_This is ridiculous. I can't actually believe him. He's insane. _

"I- I think that you may need professional help. I mean, it sounds like you believe what you're saying, but…"

"Please don't call me crazy, Mione," he pleaded, looking at her with big brown eyes that looked like they belonged on a kicked dog.

"Don't call me that," she gritted out.

"Right, sorry. But please, please believe me. I can't stand this anymore. We told James, and then Riddle, and then Harry Potter and my stupid little brother found out, and now James and Ron want us to stay and start a bloody war, and Harry thinks that his mum is alive in the other world and she's not, and Riddle wants us to perform a satanic ritual to get back to the other dimension so that he's in power again. I'm confused, and I have no idea what to do. George doesn't help either, because he's just as lost as I am. But you've always been so smart, and you always helped Ron and Harry with problems in the other world, so I just figured that maybe you would help me in this one."

_Helped Harry and Ron? Two Hogwarts students. Wait… _

"Did I go to Hogwarts?"

He looked at her and smiled sadly, something that made him look about a hundred years old.

"Yeah, you did. All the teachers said you were the brightest witch of your age, too. A bloody genius. You were part of the most famous trio at the school, and I think everyone kinda respected you."

Hermione's heart ached in her chest as she considered what he was saying, not even doubting it as fact anymore because she wanted it to be true. Her parents had always told her that she was special, but she hadn't believed them, not until now…

_Brightest with of your age. A genius. Everyone respected you. _

And part of a trio? Harry. Ron. She had seen Ron, he'd been with the twins earlier, but she wasn't sure who Harry was, even though it didn't matter. She'd had friends. People her own age who she did things with, who liked her.

She wished that her life was still like that so badly that it hurt.

"I believe you," she said softly, letting go of the words slowly and deliberately, as if that would make them easier to take back if Fred yanked the carpet out from under her feet. He didn't. Instead she found herself stiffening as the stocky redhead very obnoxiously invaded her personal space and threw his arms around her.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he said happily, and when he pulled back from her, completely unembarrassed, a lazy smile slopped across his face. He looked as much like a little kid as he had an old man only moments earlier.

"Calm down. It's not like I actually did anything for yet."

"You did, though. Now, please tell me that you don't want us to stay here and release all of the prisoners and rebel against the system."

Hermione laughed.

"As much as I see you as the leader of a rebellion, I think that I know something else you could try."

"Really?" he asked, his chocolaty eyes widening. "What?"

"Well, the way you made it sound, Dumbledore isn't a bad guy. He just got sucked in by Grindelwald. So why don't you talk to him?" She took a deep breath before she grudgingly admitted, "He _is _a brilliant wizard. Request an audience with him. Neither him or Grindelwald stay at the school for more than a few days at a time, but I'm sure that he'd return for the Weasley twins."

_I hope I don't regret this. _

"I don't know. If he tells Grindelwald, we'll both be dead."

"Perhaps. But it's either Dumbledore or Riddle. I'd pick if I were you, unless you just may wind up stuck here and leading a rebellion."

"Right," Fred said, clearly deep in thought. "I have to go, now, but I'll get back to you on what I decide."

She smiled, a part of her feeling really warm and fuzzy at the thought of being a part of something so big, of being important. Her entire life, she had been stuck in an old cave with a bunch of people twenty years older than her, basically just waiting for _something _to happen. Now, she was finally a part of something, and even though it wasn't what she would have expected, she liked the feeling all the same.

"Okay. You do that," she said, and then turned and apparated away, eager to hear from him again."

**A/N-**

**Grr. Very, very short, and late. I apologize, but there isn't much to write away from what the twins are doing, but I wanted Hermione's POV for the whole 'truth' scene. I know that something more climatic would have been nice, but the way that she works with the twins is a bigger part of the story than her getting to trust the twins. **

**Thanks to- Hahukum Konn, brooke13243546 **(Dumbledore and Grindelwald will be huge later in the fic**), Alice Primrose Granger **(Fred and George left their time the day before their seven years were due to start, so they wouldn't know about the DA yet), **Misses Prongs, **(the werewolf question will be answered later on, Remus may make a cameo, and Sirius is going to end up having a huge part eventually), **Alexa M. Riddle, Carly Voldemort, MizukiMai, Lexi, and Ultimately McAwesome** (I just had to comment on your review because it was so nice. Thanx).

**~bballgirl32~ **


	10. Get Back Up

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx **_

**We lose our way, **

**We get back up again **

**It's never too late to get back up again, **

**One day you gonna shine again, **

**You may be knocked down, But not out forever**

**Get Back Up, TobyMac**

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

"So you actually think that we should tell Dumbledore?" George asked Fred incredulously.

"I think we should try to see where his views are," Fred replied as he took a sip of his butterbeer. The two of them had gone out for the first Hogsmeade weekend, and were discussing ideas in a dirty, mostly deserted bar. They had tried the Three Broomsticks, but too many people had interrupted them, so they'd fled to the Hogshead, an out of the way place where they could speak more freely.

"We know what they are," George said. "What's there to find out?"

"Maybe he's not as pureblood oriented as Grindelwald," Fred suggested. "If it looks like he has a soft spot for the people he has tortured, then maybe we can convince him to help us. It'd be better than working with Voldemort."

George sighed, and Fred knew that his twin didn't like the idea of letting anyone else in on their story, especially not Dumbledore.

"Maybe," George finally said. "I really, really don't want to talk to him, especially not when we know that Grindelwald has such an influence on him…" He paused and shook his head, his eyes focused on something behind them. "Am I the only who thinks that old woman is staring at us?"

"Who?" Fred asked curiously, craning his neck to see. George was right. An elderly woman with long white hair and bright blue eyes was staring right at them. She was sitting behind the counter and smiling at them like she was seeing old friends. There was something off about her, though, like she a little child in a woman's body.

"Her," George answered. "I mean, I don't think that she's quite right in the head, but it's still creepy. There's something about those eyes…."

"You're crazy," commented Fred, even though now that George pointed it out, he wondered at her bright blue eyes. There was something very, very strange about them. Then he realized what was bothering him. "Do you think she looks familiar?"

"Her?" asked George. "No. I've never seen her before in my life." He shook his head as if to clear it. "It's probably just something else that the wonderful Weasley twins have done. Now, as I was saying, I think that we should stick with using Riddle as our way out. Dumbledore is too dangerous. At least with Riddle, you know that he wants us to get back to our own dimension, even if his methods aren't the best."

"But if he doesn't work-"

"Then I maybe, might, have a very tiny chance of agreeing to speak to Dumbledore."

Fred sighed, even though he knew George was right. He wanted to talk to Dumbledore, especially after working with him and the Order during the summer, but it would be dangerous. Then again, they _were _the Weasley twins. They did things that were dangerous, and to Fred, Dumbledore was preferable to Lord Voldemort.

"You do realize that with Riddle, we also get James, though," Fred pointed out, trying to change George's mind. George sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Yes, but dealing with guilty looks is better than getting murdered by Dumbledore."

Fred polished off his butterbeer. He knew where George was coming from, but Hermione had made it sound like such a good option. He didn't want to argue with George, though, and the prospect of talking to Dumbledore did scare him.

"Fine. We'll stick with Riddle, but the next time that he offers to send us through some satanic ritual, I am going to kill him." At that moment, the bell that announced a customer's entrance into the store rang, and Fred furrowed his brow. Something about the person's figure looked extremely familiar. Whoever it was had their face covered with a long scarf, but it was definitely a girl, and… was that red hair?

"Hey, stop for a second," Fred said, standing up. The girl froze rigid.

"Do you know her?" George whispered to him.

"I _think _so," Fred whispered, stepping forward. "Um. Ginny?"

The girl shook her head, but there was a frantic edge to it. Fred took out his wand.

"Accio scarf."

The long red scarf went flying into his fingers, revealing the angry, but scared face of his younger sister.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, more than a little bit confused.

"What are _you _doing here?" she tossed back defiantly.

"Enjoying a butterbeer without the clutter of our many fans," replied Fred easily; in a way, it _was _true. "Your turn."

"I- I-" she started, looking flustered for the first time that Fred could remember since coming into this world. "I can't tell you."

"Oh, come on. Mother would kill us if we touched a hair on your head," George argued.

"Yes, and she would also kill me if I told you what I was doing, so-"

"You mean she knows?"

"Obviously. Now if you would please give me that scarf back, I have other places to be."

"Don't worry, we're leaving. You can rendezvous with whoever it is you're meeting without worrying about us catching you."

"I am _not _meeting anyone," she snapped with fierce eyes. "Now, I have to go." Then she yanked her scarf out of Fred's hands, sent them one more fierce glare, and stomped out the door.

"Well, that was interesting," Fred commented.

"Yeah, it was," George mumbled, his eyes scanning all of the occupied tables. Fred did the same and noticed that there was no single person sitting at any of them, no one that looked as though they were waiting for someone to arrive. It looked like Ginny really hadn't been meeting someone. "Do you think we should ask if she's been in here before? I know it's the first Hogsmeade weekend, but maybe she stopped by last year."

"It wouldn't hurt," said Fred.

The twins made their way up to the front counter. The strange woman was still looking at them with her bright blue eyes, still smiling as though they were old friends. She scared Fred.

"It's you," she commented in a light, childish voice. Fred and George exchanged a look.

"Um-"

"It aint anybody, Ariana," a gruff voice interrupted, and Fred shrunk back slightly when a grizzled old man stomped up to the counter beside the woman. He studied Fred and George under an intense gaze, one that, like Ariana's, felt strangely familiar. "Now what're the likes of the two of you doing 'round here?"

_Right. Probably not the type of place the other twins would have visited. _

"Just looking for some privacy," Fred said friendlily.

_Friendlily? Wow. This isn't suspicious at all. _

His bright blue eyes studied them for a moment before he said, "Fine. As long as yeh aint causing no trouble. Now, what do ye want?"

"Well, um. We were just wondering if our sister has ever been in here before? You know her, don't you? Kinda short, long red hair, lots of freckles?" George tried. Fred continued to study the man and the woman closely, his brain working a hundred miles an hour. There was something about them, something so dang familiar.

"No, I haven't seen her," he answered shortly.

"Oh, well, thanks anyway," Fred said, and George kicked him in the shin. "I mean, damnit! You aren't good for anything you stupid old goat!"

_We are screwed. _

The old man's eyes narrowed.

"That wasn't very subtle. What're ye playing at?"

Then he made eye contact with Fred, and the twin made the connection almost immediately. He had Dumbledore's eyes. He… he was the brother, and the girl was the sister. The girl actually recognized them, that's what she meant with the whole 'it's you' thing.

All of the Dumbledores should have remembered them, and Grindelwald, too. He was sure that Grindelwald and the Dumbledore brothers probably wrote it off as some stupid coincidence, or maybe thought the strange people who popped into that fight were just figments of their imagination, but Ariana remembered. There had to be something they could do with that.

"Have you seen us before?" Fred asked excitedly.

The man's eyes flashed with something for a moment before he grunted.

"Of course I've seen ye before. The wonderful an' glorious Weasley twins? Unfortunately, I don't think there's many who haven't heard-"

_That damn ugly fool has no right to talk to us like that. _

"If you don't shut up about us, I am going to get your ugly arse locked away in Nurmengard before you can so much as blink," Fred growled. George put a hand on his arm, but Fred shrugged it off.

_Why isn't he defending me? What's my stupid brother playing at? _

"Don't talk to me like that, ye little punk," the bartender growled.

_Little punk? That piece of goat dung has no right to call me a punk. I'm going to make him wish he were dead. _

Fred whipped out his wand in an instant, and bellowed, "Crucio", wanting nothing more than to feel the excitement that comes with causing someone else pain.

The old man fell to the ground and started crying out, but the woman beside him was much better, screeching and screaming in a way that sent adrenaline pumping through Fred's veins. And the best past was that nobody dared to help anyone who was under the wrath of a Weasley twin. Because they were that powerful.

"Fred," George snapped, "snap out of it. Fred!"

Then he grabbed his wand arm, and Fred decided that he wasn't going to put up with whatever nice act George was trying to place that time. In a perfectly practiced fighting move, he whipped his left arm around and connected perfectly with George's face, then flung a stunning hex at him while his attention was diverted.

Barely even cringing at hexing his brother, Fred turned back to the bartender, his heart pounding with anger. He could feel the power radiating off his body, could feel the giddiness that came with knowing he was on top of the world.

"You _will _show me respect from now on. Do I make myself clear?" he asked, and he was smiling, because this was _fun. _

"I'll never respect your kind," the man spat foolishly. Fred laughed, loud and long. The blissfulness that came with insanity.

"Then I'll make sure to mess up your crazy rebel brain until you do."

Fred raised his wand again, ready to resume the Crucio curse, but then he pitched forward. Unable to keep his balance, the redhead slammed his forehead against the counter. For a moment all that he felt was the thudding of his heart and a screaming pain coming from his head, and then everything went black.

….

"Fred? Fred, is that you?"

"No, I'm George," he moaned. His head felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to it, and his stomach was threatening to heave. Someone set a soft hand on his forehead, and he swatted it away. "No touchy, no touchy."

"I'm pretty sure that I'm Forge, Gred," a familiar voice joked, even though Fred didn't miss the relief in it.

_What happened? _

"How are you feeling?" another voice asked.

"Like I got trampled by a hippogriff," he muttered, even the gentle voices intensifying the pain in his head.

"Well, it looks like you've got a concussion," the other voice, Hermione, he thought, said.

Fred forced himself to sit up, slowly because of his weak stomach. He was back in his dorm room, with George and Hermione looking down at him. He tried to think about how he got there, but even just doing that hurt.

"I _think _I hit my head," he moaned.

_I think? Either that, or I have a hangover from hell. _

"Obviously," George answered. "You were bloody frightening before that, too-"

Frightening? Fred thought for a moment, and then flinched as memories came flooding back to him. Cursing George. Crucioing that bartender.

_And the power. The wonderful, intoxicating power. _

He shook the thought away, trying to convince himself that it was the other Fred speaking, even though he wasn't sure. But he couldn't actually think that casting the Crucio curse was one of the more fun things that he had ever done, could he?

_Yeah. I could. I did. _

"Crap, no," Fred said. "Please, please tell me that I didn't do what I think I did."

"You did," answered George gravely. "He was okay, though. It was only for a few seconds."

"But still," Fred said, shaking his head in self-disgust. "I can't believe that I did that. I wanted to kill him, too. I was so angry that a part of me wanted to see him dead."

"It's okay," Hermione voiced softly, nervously, almost like she wasn't sure if she wanted to say it. "You… you couldn't control it."

Except he could. He knew what he was doing. He liked what he was doing. It felt _good. _But Fred wasn't about to tell them that, and he had a feeling that self-pity wouldn't help him very much in that situation. He forced a smile at them, turned more into a grimace by the throbbing pain in his head and his current thoughts.

"I suppose," he tried, the sick feeling in his stomach getting worse.

"Good," George said. "Um. Now you should probably go back to sleep. Hermione said we should wake you up every hour or so to make sure that you don't fall into a coma. I know that there's some kind of spell to help out with concussions, but neither of us know it."

"Wait," Fred said. "Um. I figured out something important. Just give me a second and I'll remember it."

"It can't be that big," said George. It was, though, and Fred knew it. He could feel it. He racked his brain in an attempt to place a name with the man, but he could hardly even remember his face. All that he saw was a figure curled up onto the ground in pain, all he heard was that woman's terrible screams. And all that he could think about was how much he had liked it.

"Yes, it is. I know who that guy in the bar was."

"Probably someone you knew from Hogsmeade before. It's not a big deal," Hermione said.

"No, it is," Fred argued. "I just can't quite remember…"

Merlin, his head hurt. He wanted to sleep. Nothing more than to sleep, and forget, and never think about any of this again.

"You'll get it after you rest," said Hermione.

"Yeah, maybe," muttered Fred unsurely.

"You will," encouraged George. "Now go to sleep. I've already told our roommates that you're sick, so they won't bother you."

Then George and Hermione left him alone to rest. He didn't sleep a wink.

…

Two days later, Fred found himself still unable to remember who the stupid bartender was. His head was better, though, and he attended the entire day of classes. He was still exhausted afterwards, but George insisted that they had to talk to James and Riddle. The twins had made an appointment with James during Battle Training, and they were now headed to the Room of Requirement.

"Should we bring Mione?" Fred asked.

"Probably not. I doubt Riddle would appreciate it, and we need to be on his good side. Especially after calling him Voldemort."

"He likes it and you know it," said Fred. He probably would have paired it with a joking grin, but he really wasn't in the mood.

The door appeared on the wall in front of them, and George opened it.

"Yeah, but he needs to keep up a front in front of James," he whispered conspiratorially, then stepped in. Fred followed.

Like before, James and Riddle were both waiting for them, both of them tense.

"Hello," George said genially.

Riddle inclined his head at them, and James gave them a forced smile and asked, "Have you come to a decision?"

"Well," Fred tried.

"We would love to help you," George added.

"But we really don't want to make anyone mad."

"And we definitely aren't rebel leaders."

James sighed.

"I kind of expected that, but any time that you guys change your minds, you can tell me."

_Why is he talking like he knows something we don't. _

Fred shrugged the thought off. He was making something out of nothing. Or maybe old Fred was trying to get him to not trust James. But then old Fred wouldn't think that up as an excuse, and if it was old Fred, he'd be yelling and screaming, and…

And his head was ready to explode, and he really needed some sleep.

"Don't worry, we will," said George.

"Thank you. Now, was there something else you would like to talk about?"

"Um, yeah. We'd like to apologize to Riddle," said Fred grumpily.

"Yeah. We're sorry, and we would still like your help," George said with much more enthusiasm than Fred.

"But no satanic rituals," Fred added.

"I won't suggest anything like that again," Riddle said, his eyes focused on the ceiling above them, as if he were being forced to rehearse a meaningless apology. "I was merely trying to help you, and I went too far. I will assure you that even though I am not happy with my current position, I have no aspirations to take over the world."

_Wow. Did James write that on a note card for you to memorize, Riddle? _

"Apology accepted," said George. "And we believe you."

_Not. _

"Thank you. I will return to researching your cause immediately. Is that all?"

"Yes," Fred said, just as George hesitantly added, "No."

Everyone looked at George.

"Um, did you see my sister in the kitchens a few days ago?" he asked Riddle.

_What? _

"Ginevra?" asked Riddle. "Actually, yes. She was in there the other day. Didn't stay for long, though."

"What was she doing?" prompted George.

"It looked like she was flirting with one of my younger slaves. I talked to him afterwards, and he said that she had been genial to him, so I thought nothing of it. Why?"

_She hadn't been meeting that kitchen slave, had she? _

"No reason. We were just wondering," George said. "We can go now. Thanks for helping us, Riddle."

"I am glad to," he answered, a smug smile on his face.

_Yeah, right. _

George must have seen the look on Fred's face, because he grabbed his arm and more or less pulled him out of the room.

Fred glared back at Riddle before following his twin out the door.

"So," Fred started. "What do you think little Ginny is up to?"

"Maybe she's on our side, too," George tried. "I mean, it looks like she's sneaking around with a slave, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," Fred agreed. Wouldn't that just be too good to be true, though? One of their evil siblings was already on their side. Somehow, Fred doubted that there could be two.

**A/N- **

**Happy ****4th**** of July for all my American readers. I kind of have a lot of company, so I'll just make a quick author's note. First, all of your reviews seriously floored me. At least twelve, if I counted right. That's just amazing, and I thank you a million times over. Cupcakes for everyone. **

**Other than that, the only question I can remember is someone asking if Lily will be in the story, and she will be eventually, but it probably won't be a very big part. I'll do better review responses next chapter, but I only have a few minutes right now. So, if I did miss a question, PM me or stick it in your next review, and I'll answer it. **

**Several people did say that they'd want to read the story I wrote for my sister, so I'll probably start posting that in a couple of weeks, once it's completely finished and proofread. I'll put the title in here as soon as I think of a good one. **

**That's it, I think. So, thanks to all my readers, please keep up the awesome reviews, and I'll try to get my next update up soon. Thank you. **

**~bballgirl32~ **


	11. Another One Bites the Dust

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.**_

_**Another one bites the dust. **_

_**Another one bites the dust. **_

_**And another one gone, and another one gone, **_

_**Another one bites the dust. **_

_**Another bites the dust, Queen**_

_**.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

"Nice hit, George. Your backhand has gotten a million times better over the summer," Cassius shouted, his lips curled into an enormous smirk. He was clearly very happy, and George could see why. It was their first Quidditch practice of the year, and the team already looked better than the Gryffindor team ever had during George's tenure as beater.

"Yeah, well. Training with Krum helped with that," he tried, even though Krum was a seeker and didn't know how in the hell it would. Cassius didn't seem to care, though, just nodded and zoomed forward to check on the backup chaser that George had drilled.

The rest of the team stalled for a moment to make sure that the chaser was okay, and that's when he saw him.

Standing at the edge of the pitch was Albus Dumbledore, wearing a billowing crimson cloak, his blue eyes studying the team carefully. No, not studying the team. Studying Fred. And him.

_He doesn't know anything. He can't know anything, _George tried to convince himself, but his stomach still started doing nervous little flips.

"Shit," Cassius called, heaving the coughing kid onto his broom. "He's spitting out blood. This isn't good. Practice is over. I've got to take this fart to the hospital wing."

Several people started cheering George at that, and he quickly flew to the ground, eager to get away from the coughing kid, his cheering team, and Dumbledore's searching looks.

Fred immediately landed beside him, rushing over and whispering, "Why would Dumbledore be watching us?"

"I've got no idea," George whispered back, quickening his pace a little when he noticed that Dumbledore's eyes were still following them. "I just know that I want to get away from him as soon as-"

"Ah, Mister Weasley and Mister Weasley. It is good that you finished up your practice early. I would like to talk to you."

_Crap, crap, crap. _

Fred and George turned around, smiles plastered onto their faces.

"What is it that you would like to talk to us about?"

"Oh, no. Not here," the Headmaster said with a chuckle. "In my office. It's about a rather private matter."

"Um. I have homework," tried George.

"Then I will have you excused from it. Come now." The Headmaster started walking away, and Fred and George had no choice but to follow him. "So, how are the two of you doing in your classes?"

"I think our scores are pretty good," said Fred.

Dumbledore's eyes drifted back to them, and he shook his head.

"Oh, no. More than pretty good. You have clearly been working very hard lately. Your Battle Training score has always been high, but your other classes are much improved. Your homework is being turned in, your essays are you own-" he stopped and chuckled at that, "-and your cooperation in classes is eons better than it was your last few years.

_Oh bugger. _

"Our father had a talk with us," Fred said quickly. "He turned us around real quick."

"Oh, I'm sure," Dumbledore chuckled, but George couldn't help but notice that those bright blue eyes were awfully hard. He wiped his sweating hands on his pants and forced himself to breath normally. There was no way Dumbledore could know anything. No way. "How is your father, anyway?"

"Not sure," said George. "He was off on business when we left for Hogwarts."

"A pity, but I suppose that it is necessary. He is so good at what he does. I am sure that the two of you will be even better when you take over for him."

"Obviously," said Fred. "I mean, our father is good, but he's too soft sometimes."

"Yes, yes, I understand completely," laughed Dumbledore. He paused in front of two stone gargoyles, quickly said, "Greater Good", and continued up into a rotating staircase. "I would never treat my slaves like he treats some of those prisoners. In fact, my favorite kitchen slave was just reported for participating in suspicious activity, and I had to dispose of him immediately. Such a terrible inconvenience."

George stumbled on one of the steps, and Fred steadied him with shaking hands.

"Do watch your step. They are rather steep. Ah, here we are. Please refrain yourselves from touching anything."

"Um," George started as Dumbledore opened the door to his office. "Who exactly was that kitchen slave? Because… because there's this sweet little girl down there who I… well, you know."

Dumbledore laughed long and hard, as though it were the funniest thing he had heard in a long time.

"Oh, no. It wasn't any of your girls. It was Tom Riddle, the Head Slave. Unfortunate, too. The last Heir of Slytherin, but a Mudblood. A true tragedy if I ever saw one."

George's blood seemed to turn to ice, and he froze just outside of the office, unable to move or speak. Even breathing became difficult.

Their best chance to leave was gone, and Dumbledore had killed him. There was no way that they could confide in him anymore, not when it was so apparent that he was every bit the pureblood supremist that he appeared to be.

"Ah, now why did I call you up here again?"

Dumbledore pursed his lips as though her were thinking, then shrugged.

"Oh bother, it appears that I have forgotten. I suppose that my hundred and fifteenth birthday is coming up. It becomes more and more difficult to remember these things after a while." He clasped his hands together and shook his head regretfully. "My apologies, boys. I suppose that you may return to your evening now. I will call you back if I remember what it was that was so important for me to tell you."

Then he closed the door right in their faces, his smile still plastered on his face, his eyes shining happily.

"Damnit," Fred cursed, spinning on his heel and stomping down the steps. "He knows. Somehow he found out that we were getting help from Riddle, and he killed him, then made sure that he could tell us about it."

"How would he know, though? Those other kitchen slaves looked up to him like a God. None of them would have sold him out. James?"

"No, because then Riddle could sell out him and Lily."

"But who else would know that we've been sneaking around in the kitchens?" asked George. "Ron or Harry, but Harry wants us to get back, and Ron wouldn't go behind Harry's back like that. That's it. The only people who would know."

"Then who was it?" Fred cried, then took a deep, shaky, breath and shook his head. "I suppose it doesn't even matter who. All that matters now is that we're stranded here. I'm not asking Dumbledore for help anymore, as if he'd actually help us anyway."

The twins burst out into the hallway, then hesitated.

"Where to now?" asked George. "The kitchens, to make sure he's telling the truth? Or do you think we should talk to James?"

"I want to wait on James," said Fred. "But we should find out if he's really gone. Hold on just a second."

He looked around to make sure that the hallway was empty, then rang his crystal bell. The sound reverberated ominously throughout the corridor until the _pop_ of Hermione's apparation drowned it out.

She looked around, furrowing her brow for a moment before asking, "What's going on?"

"Um. We're not sure yet. Would you mind going down to the kitchens and asking if Riddle is there? I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but-" Fred started. Hermione's laugh interrupted him.

"Yes, I'll go. It'll only take a second. May I ask why?"

"Er, we kind of just got done meeting with Dumbledore. And, um, well, he says that he killed Riddle."

Hermione's gentle smile faded into a frown, but she didn't look particularly surprised.

"I suppose that he would have done that if he had any inkling that Riddle was running around behind his back. And I thought that he might actually be helpful." She shook her head. "What are you two going to do now?"

George sighed. He had no idea.

"Right now we want to make sure that it wasn't just a ruse," said Fred.

She nodded and said, "I'll check, but I don't think that Dumbledore was lying."

Then she saw gone. The twins simultaneously sunk to the floor and leaned their heads back against the wall.

"This is horrible," muttered George.

"After all of this, we're going to be stuck here to lose our minds," agreed Fred.

"I don't get it. This kind of stuff is supposed to happen to the Golden Trio, to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Not us."

They both exhaled sharply and waited for Hermione to come back.

The bushy-haired girl popped up again a moment later, her face even more bleak than it had been when she left. George knew the answer before she even said it.

"He's dead. I thought that maybe Dumbledore would have sent him off to Nurmengard, but he must have realized that you could have just had him released." She sat down across from them and crossed her legs. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Well…" said Fred. "No."

"The only people who can help us now are Dumbledore and Grindelwald," George added, "And now it's clear that neither of them are options."

"Could you try to recreate that potion that you made before?" she asked. Fred shook his head sadly.

"Even if I remembered what was in it, I have no idea how much of anything I added. We'd have to make it exact, and it'd take hundreds, thousands of test-runs to do that. Face it, Mione, getting out of here requires magic way above George and me. We need someone like Dumbledore or Grindelwald."

"Is there anyway to force them to help you?" asked Hermione.

"I don't think-" George started, then cut himself off. He did know one way. "Call me crazy, but if we decided to go along with James's whole 'start a war' scheme, we'd probably have a chance at capturing at least one of them, as long as we win, don't you think?"

Fred jerked his head up, and Hermione's eyes widened with surprise.

"A war could take years," she said. "And there's a good chance that it'd get you killed."

"Better than staying here," said Fred. Then he took a deep breath. "I think we should do it. It can't be that hard to win. We'd have hundreds of thousands of prisoners at our fingertips if we can figure out how the whole Nurmengard system works. Slaves, too."

Hermione shook her head.

"Not slaves. Owners will just smash their bells if they start acting up."

"We could maybe get the ones at Hogwarts, though," tried George. "If they even have bells."

"They do," Hermione said. "All stowed away somewhere, I'd guess."

"Exactly. And even the Muggles could help. Give them swords or something, and we'd have millions of people who could help out our cause. It'd be perfect."

"Swords?" asked Hermione. "Unnecessary. I know of a couple of outposts where they have hundreds of guns stored up between the two of them. Those are just as deadly as most spells."

"See?" asked Fred. "We can so do this, and maybe it won't even take that long."

"It sounds easier than it is," warned Hermione. "I'm pretty sure of that."

"But it's our only chance," George argued. "And we're going to take it. Are you with us, Hermione?"

She sighed.

"I suppose, even though I still think that you're crazy."

"Well, I know we're crazy, so that's nothing new. Now we've got to talk to James. Afterwards…" Fred smiled as he thought. "Afterwards, we're going to speak with Harry and Ron. I'm guessing that you'd like to come with?"

Hermione's eyes, which had been dead only moments before, lit up with excitement, and the corners of her lips were twitching upwards as if she was trying not to smile.

"I would love to," she said, finally giving up on keeping a straight face and letting loose an enormous grin.

"Brilliant. I'll call you when it's time."

She beamed at him one more time, then apparated away. For a moment, everything was silent. Then Fred asked, "Are we really going to do this?"

Were they really going to do it? Didn't there have to be at least one less drastic option? George racked his brain straight through, but nothing came up. Nothing. Only very, very powerful wizards could really understand time-travel, and the only ones that George could think of were currently not options.

But if they won the war, they could order that at least one of them be left alive. They would force them to help, go back in time and fix everything, and the whole world would go back to normal. Even if one of them… if one of them died, they would still be alive in the original dimension.

It really was their best option.

"Yeah, we're really going to do this," he finally answered.

"Then we should probably get going," Fred said. "I only hope that we're not the ones brining James the news about Riddle."

…

Some things, it turned out, were too much to hope for.

"No, he was lying," James said, pacing back and forth throughout his classroom. "Riddle is not dead. He can't be dead."

"Hermione checked," George said, trying to make his voice consoling. "He really is gone."

"No, no, no," said James. "He can't be."

George could kind of understand where the black-haired man was coming from. Tom Riddle had kind of exuded an air of invincibility that almost made a person think that he really couldn't die. A part of George still didn't quite accept that someone who was clearly so powerful could be dead.

"I'm sorry, James," Fred tried. Tears were already forming in the older man's hazel eyes, and George knew that no apologies were going to help. Riddle had been the one to help James keep Harry from slavery, someone who looked after Lily, a person to trust and count on. George had completely forgotten about all of that when they'd decided to come and talk to James.

Knowing that their lack of sympathy was probably not wanted, George took a step back, and gestured for Fred to do the same.

"We are really, really sorry," he tried again. "Um, I doubt that this is going to make you feel any better, but we're going to stay and help you out with that war thingy, now."

James barely looked up.

"We can talk about that later. I- I just need a little time to myself."

Fred and George were already halfway out the door. Seeing someone cry like that over Tom Riddle was just too weird, especially when it was James Potter. It was like Dumbledore in a tutu- just plain wrong.

"No problem. Just tell us to meet you whenever you want to talk about it. And we're sorry. Again," said Fred.

"Very, very sorry," George stressed.

Then they darted out of the room as quickly as possible.

"Wow," Fred said. "That was awkward."

"Very. Do you think we should be more sad about Riddle dying?"

They looked at each other, thought about the creepy ritual he wanted them to do, about who he was in the future, and who he'd be again soon enough, at least if everything went well.

"Nah," they said at the same time, then chuckled.

"Now come on," said Fred. "We really do need to talk to Ron and Harry."

"Yeah," George agreed. "Let's go."

**A/N- **

**OMIGOSH! 19 reviews for this story within the last week. I seriously cannot believe you guys. Thank you, thank you, thank you like a million times over. **

**Okay, now for the actual author's note. I hope that the whole Riddle dying thing wasn't too out of place. I went back and forth writing and rewriting this because I wasn't sure about him dying quite yet, but then I decided that the sooner he was gone, the sooner the excitement started. Sorry to all the Riddle fans btw, but it was a necessary loss. And yeah, he had a kind of big part at the start of the story, and maybe his death kind of erases a lot of the twins' speculating, but if Dumbledore suspected foul play, there would be no doubt that he'd just take him out rather than dealing with any possible problems. **

**Now all that's left is to thank all of my brilliant reviewers. **

**elizall**

**Hahukum Konn**

**Scottish TimeLady**

**Misses Prongs **

**obsessivegirl73-I'm not sure if Luna will make an appearance or not. I'll have to think about that. Thanks for the reviews. And wow, thinking that this stuck with you enough to dream about it is unreal.**

**solid as a cloud-I just have to tell you that you're closer to the Ginny thing than anyone else. Thanks for all the reviews btw. **

**MizukiMai- No problem about the question. I figure that if people take the time to review, especially as much as you do, I can answer any questions they have. **

**Alexa M. Riddle **

**Sam**

**Alice Primrose Granger- Guess they don't really have to worry about believing Riddle anymore, eh? And no answers on Ginny…. **

**Frinja- Better than most books. I don't know about that, but I'm freakishly honored that you think that. **

**Have Socks. Will Travel.- Wow, you're right about the Voldemort thing. I didn't even think of that since I'm so used to reading about Harry, who'd always said it. Thanks for pointing that out. If I ever have time, I may go back and edit that. I appreciate the long review, too. **

**Ultimately McAwesome- Worthy of being published? Wow, I'm flattered that you think so. I hope that this story keeps living up to your expectations. **

**Lexi**

**Okay, that's everyone. Thanks again, and please keep up the mind-boggling reviews. **

**~bballgirl32~ **


	12. Enter Sandman

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**Something's wrong, shut the light**_

_**Heavy thoughts tonight**_

_**And they aren't of snow white**_

_**Dreams of war**_

_**Dreams of lies **_

_**Dreams of dragon's fire**_

_**Enter Sandman, Metallica**_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

Albus Dumbledore twirled his new ring absentmindedly around his finger, his eyes tenderly looking down at it every few seconds as his servant spoke.

"I heard them, sir. They say that they want to start a war."

He smirked. It really was them, then, the boys with whom he could achieve eternal domination and wipe out those filthy rebel groups for good.

The prophecy he had heard fifty years ago floated through his head as though it had been read to him yesterday.

_In The Face of Darkness Will Appear, _

_Twin Boys of Red Hair and Blue Blood, Returned After Many a Year,_

_The Rebel's Last Stand, The Ruler's Demise, _

_Enemies They Are, In an Ally's Disguise, _

_Many Will Fall, and Yet The Twins Shall Stand, _

_To Leave, or To Rule at The Hallow's Right Hand, _

_For If Leader's Unite, Rebel Hope Will Be Gone, _

_And Four Will Rule, Eternally Strong_

_Yet If They Go, Mistakes Will Be Corrected, The Empire Will Die _

_The World Restored, As Though It Had Never Gone Awry _

"Good," said Dumbledore. "It appears that the time has come."

"Are you going to kill them?" the spy asked.

He laughed.

"No, no, no. From what you say, their old minds are still active. I simply must work to get those parts of their mind to come out again. Then they will rule with Gellert and I, and we will have total power. No more rebel strongholds or Muggle outposts. _Everyone _will respect us."

"What if we lose the war?"

Dumbledore laughed at the silly little spy.

"We will not lose. Two seventeen year-old boys will not lead a successful rebellion, I am sure of it. Now go. I have much to discuss with Gellert. He will be quite pleased to hear of this development."

"Thank you, sir."

The old man watched as the girl left, then stood up to write to his co-ruler.

…..

Hermione was pacing. She couldn't help it. She was nervous.

Fred was letting her meet her _friends_. Of course, they weren't her friends in this world, but they were in the other one, and that was enough for her.

Except maybe they wouldn't like her. She _was _a slave. Her hair was horrible, too. Oh, God. Mrs. Weasley hadn't allowed her a shower in a week. They would be disgusted.

She shook her head furiously.

She wouldn't care if they didn't like her. She'd been through worse than being rejected by two guys she did not even know.

Yet she wanted this badly. Unbelievably badly.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Lee asked.

She liked Lee. They had very little in common, but he was nice, despite everything that had happened to him. And they spent most of their days together with absolutely nothing to do. They were kind of forced to grow on each other.

"I'm fine," she said. "It's just…." She didn't know how to phrase this without giving too much away. For whatever reason, Lee hadn't been told the whole truth about the twins, although he did managed to figure out that they weren't the real Fred and George. She kind of figured that George was planning on telling him the whole truth, then forgot in the face of everything else. "Do you think my hair is ugly?" she finally asked.

"Honestly?" he asked.

"Honestly," she said.

He smirked, his brown eyes twinkling.

"It looks like a Pomeranian died on your head." She glared at him, and he quickly corrected, "I mean, you pull off the Amazon Lady look beautifully."

"Ooohhhh," Hermione moaned. "This is horrible."

"What's up with you? Do you want to look pretty for Fred or something?" he asked. "Because you have never seemed to care about looks before."

"No," she snapped hotly. "And I _don't _care about looks. I just don't like being filthy. I look like a slave."

"Um. Hermione-" he started. She wheeled on him.

"Don't say it."

"Right. Sorry. Um. What I was going to say was that you're unbelievably cute even when you are filthy," he tried, then cringed away like he was expecting her to snap at him again.

"Thank you," she huffed, even though she knew that he wasn't serious.

Lee breathed a sigh of relief and wiped a hand across his brow.

"Whew. I swore you were going to kill me for a moment there."

She started to reply, but snapped her mouth shut when she felt the familiar tug on her navel.

"Be back in a bit," she rushed out, then turned and apparated to Fred.

Hermione looked around after she got her bearings. The room that she was in wasn't familiar to her at all. It was windowless, with thick white carpet, a coffee table, and five thick red armchairs. Fred was standing there, George beside him, and across from them… her breath caught in her throat. Two boys, both about her age. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

It was obvious which one was which. She had seen Professor Potter, and the boy with the raven hair and gentle eyes had to be his son. And she recognized Ron from when he'd ventured down to the dungeons with the twins the first night she was at Weasley Manor, with his mop of red hair and tall, lanky build.

The two boys both studied her with cautious eyes, and she raised her chin defiantly, telling herself that she didn't care if they dismissed her as a disgusting slave.

"Um. Harry, Ron, this is Hermione," George said. "She was your best friend in our world."

"Hermione, you know Ron, and the black-haired boy is Harry," said Fred.

They continued to stare at her, and then Harry coughed nervously and said, "It's nice to meet you, Hermione."

He held out a pale hand. She hesitated for a moment before taking it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too," she said softly. Harry grinned.

Then she stepped back and looked at Ron. He was biting his lip and looking around awkwardly.

She started to back away, figuring that he wasn't going to say anything, but then he shook his head furiously as though getting rid of a bad thought and held his hand out to her.

"Ron Weasley. Er. You knew that. Um. It's nice to meet you," he said, his face very red.

Fred snorted, and George very obviously whispered something to his twin. Hermione glanced at them nervously before shaking Ron's sweaty hand.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm glad to meet you, as well."

The room went silent.

"Weeelllllll," said Fred, breaking up the awkward silence. "Ron, Harry, we have news for you. Why doesn't everybody take a seat?"

Hermione listened, not taking her eyes off any of the boys as they sat down around her.

George coughed. Fred started playing with his shirt sleeve.

"Are you going to start?" Hermione asked them. Both of them jumped.

"Oh, right," George said.

"Um, I'll go," said Fred. He looked up from his sleeve and said, "Tom Riddle is dead. So George and I have no way to get back home unless we rope one of your fearless leaders into helping us," said Fred.

Harry looked concerned. Ron looked confused. Hermione thought that he seemed to be the type of person who was confused a lot.

"What are you going to do then?" asked Harry, sitting up straighter in his overstuffed chair.

"We're going to start a war," Fred said. "And then capture Dumbledore. Or Grindelwald. Or both of them. Either way."

Ron's eyes widened.

"So you're really going to do it?" he asked.

"But we aren't sticking around afterwards," George clarified.

"Unless you don't manage to capture Dumbledore or Grindelwald," said Ron hopefully. Harry elbowed him in the ribs.

"We want them to get back home," said Harry.

"But what's the point?" asked Ron. "If we win, all of the Muggleborns will be freed anyway. What do you think, Hermione?"

She jerked her head up in surprise. She hadn't expected him to ask her what _she _thought.

What _did _she think, anyway? She hadn't wanted the war, but now it was kind of imminent. That took away most of her reason to want them to go back home in the first place. If Fred and George won, and she did manage to make friends with Ron and Harry, what would be so bad about this world?

Of course, her parents were dead. Lots of other people would die during the war.

She glanced at Fred, and it looked like he was begging her with his eyes. George, too. They clearly needed her support on this. Harry was waiting patiently for her answer. Ron was giving her puppy dog eyes, and she remembered that she was supposed to be his friend.

She didn't want to go against him when they had just met.

"I'd have to wait to see how the war turns out," she finally said.

A sloppy grin crossed Ron's face.

"Diplomatic, aren't you? Maybe we should have you rule after those two old geezers are gone."

She looked down and blushed as a warm fuzzy feeling exploded through her stomach. He was joking with her. With _her_!

"Except that she won't have a chance to rule because everything will be back to normal," said George.

"Unless-" started Ron.

"Ron," Harry interrupted. The redheaded boy stopped, and looked down at his lap dejectedly.

"Right. I won't voice any concerns until after the war."

"Thank you," said Fred. He leaned back in his chiar. "Now, I think that's it. All we really wanted to do was tell you that. Well, and I figured that you should be introduced to Hermione. But we can go now."

"Can we stay in here with Hermione?" asked Harry. "I mean, if we were best friends in the other world, I kind of want to get to know her."

Hermione looked at him cautiously, and he smiled back at her.

"Yeah, I'll stay, too," said Ron.

Fred and George shared a look, before they both shrugged.

"Sure."

Then they walked out the door. The room was silent for a long moment.

"So, what was it like, being in a rebel hideout?" Harry finally asked.

Hermione smiled as she began to answer.

…

"You know, the more I think about this, the more eager I am to start this whole thing," said George as they neared Grindelwald tower. "I mean, it just sounds like-"

He stopped talking as Ginny stepped out from behind a portrait that Fred knew contained a secret passageway.

"You're sneaking around again," he accused. She shrugged and smiled at them, her brown eyes dancing with amusement.

"Not sneaking around," she said. "I was just taking a shortcut, honestly."

Then she ducked into the common room.

Fred and George thought for a moment. Ginny had always been kind of strange, but this was more than strange. It was actually kind of creeping Fred out.

"Just ignore it," said George. "I still think it's just a boy thing."

"Then where's the boy?" asked Fred.

"He's probably a slave. Obviously he wouldn't be with her. Now come on, I want to beat Draco in wizard chess again."

"That's because he's the only person you can beat," joked Fred, his mind still kind of on Ginny.

"Exactly," laughed George.

Then the two twins entered the common room just behind their sister, Fred's mind still turning as to where in the world she had been.

...

**A/N- That was really, really short, but it was basically made to show off the prophecy and set up the rest of the fic. And d****id anyone see Deathly Hallows Part II? Epic. I have now decided that I'm going to name my firstborn son Neville. And the Molly/Bellatrix fight scene was awesome… not going to say anymore because of spoilers, but I'm so using the curse that Molly used on Bellatrix in this story. **

**Now for my reviewer thanks- **

**Have Socks. Will Travel.- The movie was totally awesome, wasn't it? I cried through most of the second half, especially when they showed George sobbing over Fred's body. Oh well… Love that you thought of this story. **

**Lexi**

**Misses Prongs**

**solid as a cloud- It'll probably go within ten chapters of thirty, unless something really changes. And Draco may be a good guy. I'll think on it. **

**Alexa M. Riddle**

**TeamGredandForge- There's a little Lee, and there will be more of him soon. Thanks for the awesome review by the way. It made my smile. **

**Hahukum Konn- You were right. They should've been more careful. Not knowing better than to discuss war plans in a hallway twenty feet away from the Headmaster's office is exactly why Harry usually takes care of the hero stuff. **

**PenBeatsSword**

**Alice Primrose Granger **

**XXGredForgeXx**

**Frinja- I loved that killing Voldemort comment. It seriously made me start laughing. Thanks. **

**ScottishTimeLady- Your explanation for Ginny's behavior was perfect. Although I can see her as the type of person who'd pop into a random pub on certain occasions… **

**Obsessivegirl73 **

**MizukiMai **

**Elizall **

**OMG, my reviewer thanks list is getting **_**long. **_**Obviously because I've got a whole bunch of awesome people reading this story. Thank you so much, and please keep it up. **

**~bballgirl32~ **


	13. Someday

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**Now the story's played out like this **_

_**Just like a paperback novel **_

_**Let's rewrite an ending that fits **_

_**Instead of a hollywood horror**_

_**Someday, Nickelback**_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

"Okay," Fred announced, pacing back and forth in front of the current members of the rebel army. In other words, George, Hermione, Ron, and Harry. James had been talking with his wife (shiver) when Fred and George had found him, so he was absent. "We have decided to start a war. We've got that down. Now, I just need to know if anyone has any actual ideas on _how _we're going to do this, because George and I have absolutely nothing."

Harry shrugged apologetically. Ron scrunched up his face in thought. Hermione was the only one who didn't look totally clueless.

"Shouldn't we start by designating a leader?" she asked. "I mean, like an actual adult who knows what they're doing."

_Huh. That was kind of obvious. _

"Brilliant, Hermione. Who says we make it James?" asked George.

"Bella hangs off of him like a leech," said Harry. "It wouldn't be safe."

_Bella. Never thought I'd see the day where Harry Potter has a pet name for a Death Eater. Then again, I've seen weirder…_

"Well," said Fred, "he's the only good guy we've met so far. Unless you know someone else?"

There was a pause. The Room of Requirement fell silent as the five teenagers brainstormed ideas.

It was shocking to hear Ron speak up first.

"What about Snape? He seems smart, and I know exactly where Mum keeps his bell. If Fred would order Hermione to get it, he would be as good as free. We'd keep in here, and he could spend his free time coming up with battle plans or something."

Once again, a pensive silence fell across the room.

Fred hated the idea of Snape being in charge. He still had nightmares from his first year, when the potions professor had caught him and George after they'd let off a Filibuster firework in a cauldron of sleeping draught. No matter what dimension he was in, Snape would always be a slimy, creepy git.

Then again, he was a slave, which meant that there was a good chance that he'd be trustworthy. Not only that, but he no doubt knew a good amount about Weasley Manor, not to mention the way that the prisons worked. It would be a very hard opportunity to pass up.

"Maybe," Fred finally said. "We'll have Hermione get the bell and talk to him about it, and then if it seems like he'd be a good choice, he can have the spot. If not, then we'll think of someone else. What else do we need to start doing?"

"Recruiting," said Harry. "We can't win a war without any people."

True. That was going to be more difficult, though. Getting the slaves and prisoners to fight was going to be easy, but they didn't have wands, and even if they did, Fred guessed that they wouldn't know anything more than the simplest spells. If there was going to be an actual rebellion, it would need more than a few teenagers and some half-dead prisoners.

The only problem was that they couldn't start yelling for people to join the rebellion. That would be stupid and dangerous. And if they started asking around about people's opinions without saying why, those people would no doubt think that they were being put to some kind of test.

"How?" he asked. "It's not like we can make banners telling people to come to the Room of Requirement if they want to join the rebel army."

"I know where we could start," Hermione voiced.

"And where would that be?" asked George. She raised an eyebrow.

"Lee? Unless you're just going to leave him in the dungeons for this whole thing."

Fred and George both looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Bloody hell, I totally forgot about him," said George. "Maybe I should call him."

"I'll tell him when I get back," Hermione said. "Right now we should probably focus on getting this army ready."

"An army. Right. Um. How many people will we need, exactly?" asked George. "What kind of forces does Dumbledore have?"

"Er," said Ron. "I don't think you really want to know."

_That doesn't sound good. _

"Ron," Fred prodded.

"Well, there are basically three different social classes here," Ron explained. "The highest is people like Dad, Lucius Malfoy, Vincent Warrington, the big shots. Then there are middle-class workers. Shop owners, Hogwarts professors, healers, people like that. The rest are all prison guards, slave-supervisors, or law enforcers. If you're born into a class, you stay there. So we take classes that allow us to continue on with dad's work, Harry has courses that'll let him be a professor or something, and the others, all of them are trained in the same basic things."

"As much as I appreciate the interesting lesson, can you tell us what this has to do with his army?" asked George, even though Fred already had a small idea.

"Those things that they're trained in are more or less battling techniques. The only classes that they are allowed to take are things like Dueling, a different type of Battle Training than what we take, um, Self-Defense. Classes that teach them how to fight. Every lower class worker who graduated from Hogwarts is part of a militia."

Fred swallowed as Ron confirmed his suspicions, and George groaned.

"Can you tell us about what percent of Hogwarts falls into that lowest class?" asked George.

"Er. Probably seventy."

"Hermione, you're good at math, aren't you?" asked Fred.

"Yeah, why?"

He took a deep breath.

"About sixty students per year. Everyone graduates when they're eighteen, wizards can fight at top level until they're eighty or so. Counting graduating classes from all of those years… can you tell me what seventy percent of the students would be?"

She bit her lip and thought for a moment, then said, "Just over three thousand."

Three thousand. That wasn't so bad. Not at all. It actually seemed manageable. There had to be a hundred times that many in all of the prisons.

"Three thousand?" asked George cockily. "We could beat them ourselves."

Harry coughed.

"You're not counting Durmstrang. Grindelwald would have no problem Flooing over an entire army from there."

Durmstrang. Fred's eyes widened as he thought of all the enormous boys who had paraded around the school during the Tri-wizard Tournament the year before. If they looked so much like soldiers then…

"What do they teach there?"

Harry and Ron shared a foreboding look.

"It's primarily a military school," Harry finally answered.

"Grindelwald's pride and joy," muttered Ron.

"I'd say that there are over a thousand students there at any time," added Harry. "They don't just use wizarding kids. If someone in a prison or someone's slave has a child, they get sent to foster homes. Then, eleven years later, they're shipped to Durmstrang. In addition to everyone else deemed unfit for Hogwarts."

Fred felt like he was going to be sick.

"A thousand a year. Everyone playing soldier. How many years has that been going on?"

"Sixty-four."

Fred didn't need Hermione to tell him what sixty-four times a thousand was.

"And we have the five of us," he muttered.

"And Lee," joked George.

"My dad, too," tried Harry.

They all sighed.

"Well," Ron tried. "We have about a hundred thousand prisoners locked up across the UK."

"Weak. Diseased. Unable to walk. Without wands," George moaned.

"Calm down. We can still sway the general population. Can't we, Ron?" asked Fred.

"Er. The general population isn't going to help too much."

That's when it really hit Fred for the first time. If the population of the UK had been fifty five million or so with all of those Muggles….

"How many people are left?" he asked.

"Maybe thirty thousand," Ron answered after a slight hesitation. "And that's a lot more than it had been. Dumbledore and Grindelwald had to get people migrating here from everywhere just to get that many purebloods. All of the Muggles were relocated to the Americas and stuck in huge, filthy detention centers. I've heard that they make our prisons look nice."

"Thirty thousand," Fred whispered, trying to get the low number to make sense in his brain.

"Here, yeah, but eventually they realized the purebloods weren't going to maintain an entire population. Everyone in the UK is a hundred percent, other than slaves, well, and Harry, but if you go other places, there'll be slums filled with half-bloods. That's where Durmstrang gets all of their kids from."

"So even if we managed to convince the entire population to side with us-"

"It still won't match the main army. I guess that the prisoners _could _help, but it wouldn't be enough," said Harry. "Those armies are trained perfectly, and I don't think we could persuade them, either. Almost all of those kids, at least the Durmstrang ones, are brainwashed from the time they can speak. My dad calls them mindless drones."

"Ugly brutes, too," Ron commented. "I went with dad to Bulgaria to check on one of our foreign prisons, and they were marching around everywhere. Filthy, smelly, it was like oversized dogs were keeping watch. I don't think they'd be allowed into the UK unless there was a war."

"Okay," George sighed. "So if we could get a fifth of the population to help us, and guess that half of the prisoners would be fit to fight, we'd still be outnumbered by thousands. We won't be able to win any actual battles."

"Maybe we shouldn't try to fight in the first place," said Fred.

"I don't think that negotiations are going to do anything for us," said George. "Unless you want to write Dumbledore a strongly worded letter and see what happens."

"No, not like that," Fred snorted. "I was thinking that we pull a You-Know-Who and sneak around, take over major locations one by one. Remember how many spies Dad said were in the Ministry? Some people in the Order thought that he had half of the wizarding world taken over, and no one even knew it."

"He's right," said Hermione. "We'll need to do everything quietly. Infiltrate the prisons, plant spies in the Palace-"

"Palace?" asked George.

"It's the main political building now, located a few miles north of London. It was built after the Ministry fell in 1910. A spy could get us battle plans, cause discord, maybe even figure out how to deactivate the bells, if they managed to get in."

"Then if that all turned out well, we'd release the prisoners, and they could take out the militia before Grindelwald even knew to call in his actual army," said Ron.

"And when that fighting is going on, we could send our best soldiers to apprehend Grindelwald or Dumbledore for you guys," said Hermione. "They wouldn't expect it in the middle of an enormous battle."

"That actually doesn't sound totally impossible," said George. "We'd need a few more people, but not an army."

"And we can wait to find more people after we talk to Snape," Fred continued. "We'll discuss it at the next meeting. Until then, Hermione, you and Ron can stay here and figure out how to get Snape's bell from our mother. Er, and talk to Lee after you do that, if you don't mind."

"No, that's fine," she said.

"Great. And Harry? Can you tell your dad to meet us here next week?"

He nodded.

"Um. I think that's it, then. Meeting adjourned."

…

Draco Malfoy was being ignored, and it made him sick. Fred and George were never around anymore. Cassius and Roger annoyed him. Jared was beneath him. Angie, Pansy, and Daphne were spending all of their time gossiping about what was going on with the twins. Even Ron and Harry, who he only associated with under the worst possible circumstances, only seemed to appear right before curfew.

He had spent the past three nights studying in the library. By himself.

It was pathetic. Draco Malfoy was beginning to wonder if he had any friends at all, and that would not do. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys were supposed to be popular.

Of course, he _was _popular. It wasn't his fault that everyone else was acting strange.

He groaned and leaned back against the wall of a seventh floor corridor. Popular? He was wandering the castle with absolutely nothing to do because he had already finished _all _of his homework. He'd even asked Pansy to walk with him, and she'd bitched at him about not being over George.

He was one of the richest students in the school, other than the Weasleys. He wasn't ugly. He was at the top of his class. And yet, at that moment, no one seemed to realize that he existed.

It couldn't be his attitude. People liked Fred and George, and even Draco knew that they were arseholes all of the time. He was nicer than that. He'd even helped Loony Lovegood, the freaky Dumbledore, after she dropped her books the week before.

Maybe that was why everyone was ignoring him. Because he'd helped a psychotic Dumbledore and somehow had seen, and now everyone in his house knew about it and thought that he was a traitor.

That had to be it. Maybe he'd find Loony and shove her down a flight of steps. Just to make everything right again.

He pushed himself off of the wall with a smirk, already looking forward to finding Luna, when he saw the wall across from him grow a door. It sounded crazy, but that was exactly what it did. One moment it was blank wall, and the next, the pale stones melted and shifted until a door formed.

Draco quickly darted around the corner, pretty sure that a randomly appearing door wasn't a good thing. He was just barely out of sight when he heard the hinges creak open. The blond poked his head back into the hallway in time to see Fred and George walk out of the room with Harry Potter right behind them.

He furrowed his brow.

That didn't make sense. They hated Harry. Neither of them would shut up about how big of a blood traitor his father was. There was something wrong.

"You shouldn't be seen with us," George said as the door melded back into the plain stone wall. "It'd look suspicious."

_What the hell? _

"Right. You guys can go. I'll wait for a few minutes," said Harry. "And don't worry, I'll talk to my dad. He should be able to come next time."

"Great," Fred said. "I'm looking forward to it."

The twins left, going down the hallway opposite the one where Draco was standing. Harry started pacing back and forth.

They were meeting again. With James Potter, next time. Fred and George did not partake in suspicious activity with either of the Potter boys. Occasionally Bellatrix, but he wasn't supposed to talk about that, and he was pretty sure that they weren't doing anything similar with James and Harry.

Unless… He shook his head. He wasn't even going to go there.

Draco had almost decided to leave when the wall melted into a door again. Ron Weasley came out that time. That was more strange than Harry. Both of the twins _despised _Ron. He was stupid and pigheaded. Even Draco couldn't stand him, and he liked to think himself more tolerant than either of the twins.

"Do you think Hermione is going to be able to do it?" asked Harry as they headed off down the hallway.

"I think so," said Ron. "If Mum left the bell in the dining room like she usually does, it won't be a problem at all. A monkey could probably steal it."

_Stealing a bell? That's illegal. _

"I suppose you're right. I just don't want her to get caught."

"Don't worry, she's smart enough that she won't. Now come on, I need to talk to my dad about the war. He's going to be so…"

Harry's voice grew too muffled to hear as him and Ron disappeared around a corner, but Draco had heard enough. They were talking about a war.

His first instinct was to tell someone. Preferably Grindelwald.

Then he realized that he wasn't even sure that he heard Harry right. They probably weren't even discussing a real war, because honestly, no matter how strange the twins were acting, they wouldn't doing anything to go against Grindelwald…

Or would they? He'd always known they were power hungry, but were they stupid enough to try to take over already?

He sighed. His father had always told him not to give anyone important information unless you were sure that it was true. That meant that he'd half to figure out more about it.

The blond decided that the next time the twins went sneaking off, he was going to follow them.

Draco turned to head back to his common room when he saw a sheet of red hair seemingly disappear into thin air. When he looked more closely, it was almost like the air shifted in a certain part of the hallway… But he was going crazy. He shook his head and returned to the Grindelwald common room.

**A/N-**

**There. That was a little longer (even though it was kind of just to set up chapter 14), and next chapter is probably going to be at least 4,000 words. Hermione will get the bell and talk to Lee, the twins will talk to Snape, and there may be a scene with two other characters.**

**Secondly, I have officially decided to cut the Fred/George pairings, but am adding/keeping at least two that don't have to do with Fred or George as kind of a compromise. ****And for everyone guessing about Ginny, I'm not commenting. It's a secret. Kind of.**

**Lastly, I've started posting the Tom/Ginny story I mentioned a few chapters ago. Not blatantly advertising or anything (wink, wink), but it's called Prejudice and Pride if anyone wants to read it.**

**Now to respond to my amazingly brilliant reviewers-**

**obsessivegirl73**

**Hahukum Konn**

**.me**

**Slireon**

**ScottishTimeLady- For the 'servant' thing, Dumbledore basically calls everybody that, so it doesn't mean that it's his slave or anything. As for your other questions, you'll just have to keep reading to find out.**

**Have Sock. Will Travel- The ring thing is going to end up being important later on, so no answers on that for now.**

**Misses Prongs**

**xXGred-ForgeXx**

**Alice Primrose Granger- Glad you liked the prophecy because I'm usually bad with poetry and symbolic stuff like that. And Ron _might_ like Hermione. You'll have to see.**

**solid as a cloud- Sorry about no pairings, but like I said, I'm adding a couple of little ones. And I have also officially decided that Draco is going to get a part in the story, too. Just not sure if it's going to be good or evil yet.**

**TeamGredAndForge**

**elizall- I totally cried through half the movie, too. I was sitting there all teary-eyed when Snape died, and my friend started laughing at me… And sorry that this chapter wasn't much longer, but the next one will be really long, so hopefully that makes up for it.**

**Tape Monkey**

**Frinja- I am not at liberty to disclose the true meaning of the prophecy… not really, but the prophecy basically means what the person reading it thinks it means. So Dumbledore would worry that Muggleborns would be free again and everything, but if the twins ever looked at it, they'd take it to mean that everything would go back to normal. If that makes sense.**

**Fred Weasley Lover- Luna will be in it, thanks for the awesome long review, and your other questions will be answered soon enough.**

**Alexa M. Riddle**

**NewSlove**

**Lexi**

**evanescoavis**

**Random Reviewer**

**That was twenty-one reviews for last chapter. You guys seriously floor me. Keep this up, and I'll keep trying to squeeze my updates in sooner. You're all totally awesome, and please keep it up. Thanks.**

**~bballgirl32~**


	14. The Chicken Dance

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_na na na na na na na _**

**_na na na na na na na _**

**_na na na na na na na na na na na _**

**_bock bock bock _**

**_The Chicken Dance _**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

Hermione crouched at the edge of the Weasley's dining room, her brown eyes sharply peeled for any sign of the present family members. Mrs. Weasley was home, she knew, and from what she could gather, so were Bill and Percy. None of them were in sight, however, and the brown-haired witch knew that it wouldn't be that way for long.

Ron told her that the bell was either on Mrs. Weasley's person, or set in the china cabinet in the dining room.

Hermione could see the elaborate cherry cabinet across the room, expensive plates barely visible from behind glass windows. She couldn't _see _the bell, but that by no means meant that it wasn't there.

With one more glance around the room, the witch took a cautious step forward. Nothing happened. She took one more. Then another one. A flash of dark blue met her eye from the corner of the china cabinet, and she rushed towards it.

"What are you doing?"

_Aw, bugger. _

She froze and took a shaky breath, then turned to find herself face to face with Percy Weasley, looking at her suspiciously. Crap. This was not good.

"Well…"

She couldn't say that she was getting something for Fred, because then the blame would be placed on his shoulders when the bell went missing. She supposed that lying and saying she was trying to find food for herself would work, but that would earn her a punishment severe enough that she would be out of commission for at least a week.

"Those are nice robes. Where did you get them?" she tried.

He narrowed his dark eyes at her.

"Very funny. Do not make me curse you into telling."

_What to do? _

Hermione took a step forward and put a hand on his chest, gulping as she did so. Percy didn't back away, but he stiffened under her touch.

"I wasn't joking," she said with a smile that she hoped was flirtatious. Her free hand reached up and wiped a strand of scarlet hair from his eyes. "You look _very _good in them."

He stared at her uncomprehendingly, and she worried that she had stumbled across the only Weasley who wasn't naturally a perverted freak.

"I-I- what?"

His face was tomato red, and his hands were shaking. That clearly wasn't something he was used to hearing. Hermione stepped closer to him.

"I said that you look good," she repeated. "That's why I came up here, you know. To see if I could find _you_."

That was pushing it, but Percy was definitely buying it, his blush deepening and his eyes flitting towards the ground.

"Y-you're a Mudblood," he stuttered. She grit her teeth against a sharp retort, instead turning her head so that she could look him straight in the eye.

"That doesn't bother your brother, and you are so much more sophisticated than him."

The scrawniest Weasley brother shook his head furiously.

"I, no, but why _me_?" he asked unbelievingly.

That's when she realized that he wasn't acting stiff and nervous because he wasn't interested. It was because girls didn't notice him.

God. No. He was not going to make her feel guilty for lying to him. He wasn't, he wasn't, he wasn't. She bowed her head, her thoughts scrambled, not sure what she should do next.

"Because I don't think that you're like your brothers," she finally said, her voice shaking slightly in fear that she'd offend him. Instead, his heartbeat quickened underneath her fingertips, and his eyes went to the floor again, no longer able to meet hers.

"I'm different enough to control myself," he said firmly, "But not different enough to not think of you as anything more than a filthy animal."

She knew for a fact that he wasn't as sure as he let on, and there was no doubt that she could get him to crack if she kept trying. The only problem was that cracking wasn't what she wanted him to do. She wanted him to leave, and he wasn't going to do that until she did.

"I'm sorry to have offended you," Hermione said, starting to back away. "I just thought… you seemed so much more understanding."

"Well," he swallowed, "you should have thought differently."

Then he promptly turned on his heel and left.

_Great. I'm probably the first girl to ever look at him twice, and it's a complete ruse. _

Then again, she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. After checking to make sure that he had actually left, Hermione hurried over to the china cabinet… then she hesitated.

Percy knew she'd been in there. If that bell went missing, it would be obvious who took it.

He'd be hurt, he'd be mad, and he would probably take it out on her.

She looked from the doorway to the cabinet, then let out her breath in an angry, nervous huff.

This was a war, damnit. People were going to get hurt. She made Percy Weasley look like a hormonal, girl-deprived idiot. So what.

Without another thought, she ripped the bell out of the cabinet and shoved it in her pocket before apparating back down to the dungeons.

Fred was due to summon her by the end of the day, so she would have to hang onto the bell until then. The only thing that would prevent him from getting it would be if Mrs. Weasley noticed its absence before he called her.

"You look nervous," Lee commented.

Hermione jumped. Lee. She had completely forgotten about him.

"Sorry, it's just-"

"You've been doing something wrong," he smirked. "I can tell. How surprising. You don't seem the type to take part in subtle acts of subterfuge."

Right. He didn't know. She was in charge of telling him.

"Subtle may not be the word for it," she muttered, then took a deep breath. "Actually, once _Mistress _Weasley finds out, I'm sure that the reaction will be quite unsubtle."

His eyes turned worried.

"What did you do Hermione?"

"Well," she started, "it's a long story. I suppose that I might as well get around to telling it sooner rather than later, though."

He crossed his legs and leaned against the bars that separated their two cells.

"Good, because it sounds rather interesting."

"It has to do with the Weasley twins," she said. He nodded, unsurprised.

"They're not real, I've already figured that out."

"Well, they kind of are," answered Hermione. "They are the Weasley twins, but not the ones we know. They're from a different dimension."

Lee raised a brow.

"They told you this?" he asked. She nodded. "And you believed them?"

"If they're lying, they're taking it to a ridiculous level," she told him. "Because right now, they're in the process of starting a war."

An enormous grin spread across his features, and his dark eyes lit up.

"I knew it. I tried to get George to tell me about it earlier, but he wouldn't. But they're here to save us, aren't they?"

"Not quite," she said hesitantly. "Well, maybe. It just depends on how you look at it."

"You don't have to be evasive, you know. From what it sounds like, they're trying to take out Dumbledore and Grindelwald, and that's all that I want."

"Okay, then," she said, relaxing. "Yes, they are trying to destroy the Order of the Deathly Hallows, but only so they can get back to their own dimension. Grindelwald and Dumbledore are the only wizards strong enough to help them, and they're basically waging the entire war to capture one or the other."

"And this other world that they're from, it's better than this?" he asked.

Hermione smiled and took a seat next to him, as close to each other as the bars would allow.

"Much better," she said. "Muggles and Muggleborns were free. Dumbledore wasn't evil without Grindelwald, he was amazing. And you, you were the twins' best friend."

Lee grinned and shook his head.

"Rolling with the Weasleys. That had to have been crazy."

"Fred said that you three were the biggest pranksters in school, that you were going to help them start up a joke shop after you graduated," she said softly. "You were the Quidditch commentator, too."

"That's all amazing and brilliant," Lee said, struggling to keep his face serious, "But you're distracting me. What'd you just do, Hermione, that you were so nervous about? And what about this whole war thing? It's not going to be easy."

Right. The war.

"Just now? I stole Mrs. Weasley's bell. The twins want to see if Snape would be a good rebel leader."

"You stole a bloody bell!" Lee exclaimed, looking at her incredulously. "That's brilliant. How didn't anyone catch you?"

"Well, Percy kind of did," she said worriedly. "I- I got him to leave."

Lee's excited look faded immediately.

"You got him to leave, but he knew you were there, Hermione!"

"They needed that bell. I wasn't going to miss an opportunity to get it."

"Hermione, you're not going to, you can't just-"

"He won't kill me," she said. "He wouldn't do that to Fred's slave. I'm sure that he's too scared of his brother."

"Well, I'm not," said Lee stubbornly.

Hermione felt a light tug on her naval and thanked God for good timing.

"Sorry, can't talk about it anymore," she blurted out. "You can lecture me later."

Then she turned and let herself be pulled towards Fred.

Both twins were looking up at her eagerly when she arrived in the Room of Requirement.

"Did you get it?" they asked simultaneously, their eyes growing wide with anticipation.

She smirked and looked at her feet.

"Well…"

"Hermione!" George begged.

"Fine, fine, fine. I got it," admitted Hermione, digging in her pocket and pulling it out. "Here."

Fred jumped up and grabbed it, his eyes turning reverent.

"Thank you a million times over, Hermione," said George, but he was already drooling over the bell, too.

"Do you know what this is, Forge?" Fred asked his brother.

"It is Severus Snape's lifeline, Gred," said George. "If we want, we can make him do the chicken dance."

"_What?_" asked Hermione. There was no way that she got that stupid bell for them just so they could abuse a poor slave. If they even thought about doing anything to Snape…

"We meant…" started George. "What did we mean, Freddy?"

"We meant that now we can interview him," said Fred. "You know, like a job interview. And in our world, that's what people did at job interviews. I mean, what's a job interview without some good old chicken dancing?"

_Without chicken dancing? Sometimes the limits of human strangeness never fail to amaze me. _

"If you dare," Hermione threatened.

The two boys plastered guilty expressions on their faces.

"Don't worry, Mione. We'd never do anything to him. Ever," said Fred.

"Yeah, don't worry. Snape is safe with us."

"Promise?" she asked. She didn't think that they'd actually hurt Snape, but there was definitely some resentment there. There was no telling who he was in their dimension, and by the mischievous look in the twins' eyes, forcing him to 'chicken dance' or something similar didn't seem to be out of the question.

"Promise," they said simultaneously.

Hermione gave them one more stern look, then apparated away.

…

Fred stroked the blue bell nervously, and George watched on in shock. He hadn't expected Hermione to actually get it. He hadn't understood what it would be like to have so much control over Severus Snape if she did.

"We aren't going to abuse this, Fred," warned George.

"Of course not," said Fred. "It's going to be a completely serious, businesslike interview. We'll tell him what's going on, ask him how he feels about being a leader or something, and see if he knows anyone else who could help."

"Right," agreed George. "And offer him a place in the Room of Requirement."

"Exactly," his twin said.

There was a nervous pause, and Fred rang the little blue bell.

A moment later, Severus Snape appeared in front of them, his face carefully blank, his composure not faltering one bit. Once again George was surprised to see how different he looked with his short hair and hollow cheeks, how less intimidating his simple shirt and pants were than his billowing black robes.

"What may I do for you, Master Weasleys?"

The twins hesitated. That was where things got tricky. George supposed that they could tell him their story and have James or Hermione support them, but he doubted that Snape would believe them just because James and Hermione did. There was also the option of just saying that they were starting a rebellion, without any of the background story.

That would be extremely unlikely, and probably less believable than their actual story would be.

Finally, George said, "Do you remember the night before we left for school, how we asked you where our room as?"

Snape stared at them for a very long time before nodding.

"Well," continued Fred. "That was because we actually didn't know where it was. We hadn't set foot in that house before in our entire lives. We weren't, still aren't, the real Fred and George."

There was a short silence where George waited for Snape's accusations of dishonesty, but they never came.

Instead, their former potions professor simply continued to study them with obsidian eyes before he murmured, "Twin boys of red hair and blue blood, returned after many a year." Then, louder, he continued, "You have intentions of forming a rebellion."

"Er," said George, completely confused. "Where would you get that idea from?"

Snape stepped closer to them, his face becoming more open, showing them traces of everything from hope to disdain.

"Several years after you were born, I overheard Dumbledore discussing a _prophecy _with your father," he said darkly. "He believed that it had to do with the two of you, and suggested your growth and education to be monitored exceedingly closely."

George's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

If Snape had guessed they were trying to rebel from what he heard Dumbledore say, then Dumbledore had to know it, too. So why were they still alive? What could that prophecy have said?

"This is important," Fred stressed. "What exactly did you hear?"

"Dumbledore feared that you would rebel," he uttered, "and your father offered to kill you."

"What?" the twins cried. Suddenly George seemed very, very cold. Their father had volunteered to kill them because a possibly faulty prediction said they _might _go against Dumbledore.

"You should not be so shocked. I would have figured you to have realized the particulars of this world by now. Everything possible is done for the happiness of our dictators."

"Then how are we still alive?" asked George.

"Our leader did not want you dead," answered Snape. "He believed you to be the key to erasing the last hope of the rebels."

_The key to erasing the last hope of the rebels? _

He shook his head. If Dumbledore was so sure that they would rebel, then why would he think that they'd help him destroy the rebels? It didn't make sense. None of it.

"How?" asked Fred.

"I did not hear the entire thing, as I have told you. I know nothing else," said Snape. "But I believe that you have something you would like to tell me, otherwise I would not be here."

"Right," said George, trying to bring his mind back to the matter at hand. The prophecy meant nothing except that Dumbledore had a reason to keep them alive. It wouldn't change anything. "We do want to rebel, like you said, and we received a suggestion to make you our fearless leader."

"But we need to make sure you're good enough first. Well, and that you want to do it," continued Fred.

"I'll do it," said Snape tonelessly, then added with a biting sarcasm, "as long as I am 'good enough'."

_Good old Professor Snape. _

"Great," Fred said, cheerily ignoring the black-haired man's sarcasm. "First off, we'll start with your experience. Do you have any idea how to cast anything other than basic spells? I mean, seeing as you're a slave and all."

"I have not always been a slave, Mister Weasley," he droned. "Most of us who appear to be intelligent began their lives at rebel outposts. I received a thorough education before I was captured."

George was slightly relieved. That had been one of their biggest concerns.

"And you can still do all of those spells and everything?" he checked.

"If you were to acquire a wand for me."

"We'll get on that as soon as possible," assured Fred. "If we pick you, anyway. Speaking of which, how much do you know about Nurmengard? Or the Nurmengards? Do you have information that'll help us release the prisoners?"

"Enough to know that the wards which surround the prisons will not be able to be broken by two adolescent boys," said Snape. The twins exchanged a look, then decided to ignore his attitude.

"We'll get some kind of assistance," George tried unsurely. "As long as you're willing to help us."

"If I wasn't, would I still be dealing with you? Continue on with your questioning," he said boredly.

"Do you know anything at all about battle strategy?" asked George.

Snape shifted in his chair and focused on George interestedly.

"I will be pleased to direct the rebellion and assist in making final decisions, but I do not think even you foolish enough to expect me to do _everything _without assistance. A separate military strategist, would be most beneficial, I would think."

He was right, George supposed. They would have to break the entire thing up into factions, get different leaders for each one, and then have someone to look over all of the factions, kind of like what Dumbledore did for the Order. Snape _would _probably do well in that place, but they'd kind of expected him to take over the entire thing. They didn't have enough people to try anything else.

Or did they?

"Do you know anyone who could fill in any of those other spots?" he asked.

"No," he said cryptically. "I am not allowed out of your manor."

"Oh," said Fred. "Well, we'll work on the whole other people thing. But for now, well, I suppose that the main spot is yours. You'll be the director or whatever you call it. Er, and since we kind of stole your bell, it might be a good idea for you to live here, in the Room of Requirement, until the war is over. I'm afraid that our parents will be kind of ticked if you show up again."

"A pity," said Snape sardonically, his eyes browsing the room in what almost looked like approval, "but I think I will be able to manage."

"Wonderful," Fred said. "But don't get in the habit of sitting around naked or anything, since this is kind of our regular meeting spot. Just saying."

Snape shot Fred a glare that reminded George of the saying 'if looks could kill', but his twin laughed it off.

"Just joking, Sevvy. We'll just be leaving now."

"Maybe take a nap and improve that mood of yours, too. We'll be brining you a few guests later tonight, and we don't want you to give our little brother nightmares." Then the twins dashed out of the room, leaving a very angry slave behind.

…

Draco paced back and forth in front of the wall that had sprouted a door for the twins. It didn't move at all for him, and he was doing exactly what he had seen the twins do. He didn't get it. Did they have some kind of special magic, or where they so rich that they paid to have their own private room installed somewhere in the castle?

He kicked the wall in frustration. This was stupid. What did he care about what the twins were doing? If he had any real pride, he would ignore them and not care that they weren't spending five minutes with him outside of classes.

Just as he was deciding that leaving would be most beneficial, a dreamy voice spoke up from behind him.

"Why are you trying to get into the Room of Requirement?"

He whirled around, his wand raised, but it was just the stupid little Dumbledore, Loony Lovegood. The blond opened his mouth to curse her, then closed it again when he realized what she said.

"The Room of Requirement?" he asked curiously.

She nodded, her wide silver eyes seeming to look through him rather than at him. "Of course. I found it when I was searching for a place to study in peace during my first year, and when I asked Miss Evans about it, she told me what it was. Didn't you know, or do you have a strange habit of kicking random walls?"

"What is it, exactly?" he pressed, ignoring her question.

"A room that transforms into whatever you desire it to," she said lightly. "You pace back and forth in front of it three times with an idea of what you need in your head, and then it will change into what you were wishing for."

Draco turned and looked at the wall, thinking hard.

"And if there is already someone in there?"

Loony shrugged lightly.

"I do not know. I suppose that it would not be able to change with people in it. Why?"

"No reason," he said dismissively, then asked, "And do you think that if I were to guess what those other people were in there for, it would change for me then?"

"I would suppose so," she answered airily. "Although it would be rather hard to guess, I think."

_Not if I know what they're doing. _

A place to discuss something. He was sure that was what the twins would need. Why else would they go there, to a place that he was sure Grindelwald or Dumbledore had never heard about?

"Thank you, Loony, er, Lovegood," Draco said dismissively, wanting her gone so he could ruin the twins' little tête-à-tête with who knows who.

"You are very welcome, Draco," the blonde said, not moving an inch.

"Is there a reason that you're up here?" he asked, his eyes flashing impatiently towards the wall.

"I was following you," she said unashamedly. "You looked very suspicious when you left the Great Hall, and I was wondering at what you were doing."

"_WHAT?_"

"Don't' worry, I won't tell anyone about your agitated muttering or angry wall-kicking. May I ask what you were doing, though?"

"No," he snapped. "You may not. It is none of your-"

The wall started melting back into a door, and Draco tried to make a mad dash, but the stupid Lovegood girl grabbed his hand and said, "Ooh, someone is coming out. I very much want to see who it is. Don't you?"

"No, I don't," he hissed, yanking his hand away, but it was too late. Fred and George both emerged, laughing about something, but their expressions froze when they took in him and Loony waiting outside.

"Draco? Luna?" they asked, shocked and terrified.

Luna? The twins didn't call her Luna. It was always Loony, slave-lover, blood-traitor, something of that sort. What in the world was going on?

"Oh," said Loony, her silver eyes widening in realization. "It was you that Draco was waiting for. I wondered why he was acting so strange. Aren't you friends? Why didn't you let him in?"

_I am going to kill her. Murder her. Tear her apart and feed her intestines to her kitchen slave friends. _

"We weren't doing anything," lied George nervously.

"Yeah," said Fred. "We were just studying. We're sorry, Draco. We didn't know you were behind us."

"I was just wondering why you were leaving supper so early," he supplied genially. "It's no problem."

The three of them exchanged nervous glances, as if daring one of the others to say something that would prove someone had been doing something wrong, but everyone was silent, and the boys quickly dispersed, Fred and George going one way, and Draco going the other, Loony following Draco and starting a conversation on Nargles with him after a moment of quiet.

He was thinking too hard to force her to go away.

**Ha, long chapter, finally. I really don't have much to say, so I'll get right to addressing my reviewers. Sorry that I'm not specifically addressing very many people, but I'm on vacation right now, so I'm kind of taking a week off of actual replies. **

**Oh, and several people asked how Ginny got the invisibility cloak, but there are disillusionment charms that can be used to make people kind of invisible, or someone could have charmed a traveling cloak to make a less effective version of one of Harry's cloak, so she doesn't necessarily have the actual cloak.**

**Thanks to-**

**obsessivegirl73- Thanks for pointing out the house thing. I completely didn't realize I did that until you mentioned it.**

**Alexa M. Riddle**

**Misses Prongs**

**ScottishTimeLady**

**xXGred-ForgeXx**

**Tape Monkey**

**Have Socks. Will Travel.**

**Lexi**

**solid as a cloud**

**Strawberry-Green-Girl**

**Alice Primrose Granger- Harry, Ron, and Ginny are all Grindelwalds, and Neville will come up sometime because he's one of my favorite characters too and I don't think I could leave him out.**

**Rainremember**

**Amanda- Sirius has a huge part eventually, Remus may make a cameo, there will be some Tonks, and I'm not sure about Peter. I've considered him in some places, but I'm still not sure.**

**MoonBeam2254**

**NewSlove- I haven't mentioned either Remus or Sirius yet, but Sirius is going to come up really soon and be a major character, and Remus _may _make a small appearance eventually, but I have a feeling that it won't be how most people expect.**

**brokenly yours**

**Carly Voldemort**

**dorkorifffic**

**Frinja- Draco will act like a Slytherin, and that's all I'm going to say in relation to his evilness.**

**Please keep up your super-awesome reviews. Every single one makes me smile.**

**~bballgirl32~**


	15. Hit Me With Your Best Shot

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_You come on with a come on, you don't fight fair, _**

**_But that's okay, see if I care. _**

**_Knock me down, it's all in vain. _**

**_I'll get right back on my feet again._**

**_Hit Me With Your Best Shot, Pat Benatar_**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

"I wonder if I've got a girlfriend in the other world," said Lee speculatively, leaning his head back against the cell wall. "I'm saying I do. Probably more than one."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile. She loved seeing Lee so happy. His smiles were contagious, and his eyes sparkled more than anyone's she'd ever seen.

"I doubt it. They'd probably all dump you after you compared their hair to dead animals."

"I reserve those compliments for you, Mione," he grinned. "Besides, you're the only one who has the Pomeranian look down so well."

Hermione laughed, really laughed, but it was cut off by the sound of a slamming door. Her mouth shut in an instant, and she found herself scooting away from Lee as quickly as she could.

Then Percy Weasley was stalking into the dungeon, black robes billowing behind him, dark brown eyes immediately landing on her. Her stomach was constricting painfully, and she was sure that her heart was going to beat itself right out of her chest. He knew she stole the bell, and now he was going to beat her until she was dead.

_Come on Fred. Ring your bell. Get me out of here. _

Percy slowly ambled over to her cell, trying to appear relaxed, but his eyes were brimming with anger.

"I should kill you," he announced bitterly. "If I had any brains at all, I would murder you.

"Percy," she started, her voice choked with fear. "What did I do?"

"What did you do?" he asked sharply. "I think you know exactly what you did."

"I don't-" she started, but his expression stopped her. There'd be no convincing him of her innocence. He would have made her guilty even if she wasn't.

But what could she do? Take the beating and hope that he didn't kill her? She really wasn't too keen on that idea.

"Give it to me," he said harshly. "If you quit the act and give me the bell, we will pretend that this never happened."

Hermione shook her head, not believing that for a second. She knew what actual purebloods were like, especially Weasleys. Just because Ron was an exception didn't mean that Percy was.

"I would give it to you, and you would kill me then," she said, standing up and crossing her arms defiantly over her chest, just because it made her feel better. Percy still towered over her, but it was better than sitting on the ground.

The redhead shook his head, looking at her speculatively.

"You aren't stupid, are you?"

"I am human, too, you do realize. Having non-magical blood only makes a difference to those who believe it to." When he opened his mouth to protest, she continued, "Would you think I was Muggleborn if I wasn't sitting in your dungeons?"

"This conversation is turning irrelevant," he said dismissively. "I came down here to get that bell back, and I am not going to leave until you give it to me."

"Then you're going to be here for a while," said Hermione cheekily, "because I don't have it."

Percy grit his teeth, but he showed no signs that he didn't trust her. "Does he?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the other cell, where Lee was pretending to be asleep, no doubt knowing that any interference on his part would only make things worse.

"No, he doesn't."

"Then who does?" he questioned exasperatedly, his dark eyes meeting Hermione's as if he was searching for the answer there.

She bit her lip and looked at her feet, unwilling to sell out the twins. Who else could she say? James? No. Harry or Ron? Absolutely not. One of the kitchen slaves? She wasn't that cruel.

"Beat me," she said. "Do whatever you want to me, but you aren't going to get the location of the bell out of me."

He took a step closer, lifting his wand out of his pocket and holding it loosely in his right hand. Hermione eyed it speculatively, wondering if she would have a chance at grabbing it.

"I do not want to hurt you," he told her stiffly, sounding half like he actually meant it.

"If you didn't want to hurt me, then you would leave, tell your mother that she must have misplaced the bell, and forget that you ever ran into me yesterday."

He laughed coldly.

"You humiliated me, lied to me, tricked me. What kind of pureblood would I be if I let a filthy little slave get away with that?"

"A kind one," said Hermione simply.

A kind pureblood. She would have laughed at the notion a month ago, but now… Now she was starting to wonder if people weren't kinder in general than she had been raised to think. Ron, Harry, James, Fred, George, Lee… after living a life with no friends, circumstances had given her six acquaintances who were reasonably kind to her, whether she could trust them or not.

Who's to say that Percy wouldn't be the same?

Although, admittedly, she'd be pretty mad at him if things were the other way around. In all honesty, she probably wouldn't let him go.

"I could drug you. Knock you out and force veritaserum down your throat. That would be kind, too, compared to what my mother would do to you," said Percy.

She swallowed, even if what he said was true, in a way. She still didn't want him to do it. They couldn't know about the twins. They just couldn't. The war was too important.

"You wouldn't like what you heard," she said honestly.

"And why is that?" Percy asked, drifting closer to her still. His wand was still held lazily in his hand, so close to the bars of her cell. She could get it now, if she timed herself perfectly. Keeping her eyes focused steadily on Percy's, not letting her gaze flicker to his wand, she made her way slowly and deliberately to the bars of her cell.

"It's a secret," she said, leaning against the cell wall, snaking her arm through the bars. "I don't want Lee to know."

"He is irrelevant. Just tell me," Percy said impatiently. She could see that he was determined not to be fooled again, that he wouldn't let her closeness affect him this time, no matter what she tried. That meant that he would be stepping away as soon as possible. She had to get that wand. Immediatly.

"Fine, I do have-" started Hermione, darting her arm out of the cell halfway through her sentence and making a move for the wand. But instead of grabbing it like she'd planned, she only knocked it out of his hand, the thin stick of wood rolling across the floor, out of reach, away from her cage…

And then it's path curved, just slightly, in the direction of Lee's cell. She watched on desperately as Percy dove to the floor for it, just as Lee did the same thing. White and brown hands reached for it, Lee's thin arm out of his cell up to his shoulder, his face smashed against the bars as he reached as far as he could… long fingertips barely closing around it… and yanking the wand back into his cell.

As soon as it became apparent who had the wand, Percy turned to run, but Lee was quicker, flicking the wand and yelling, "Stupefy!", sending the redheaded boy to the floor in a crumpled, unconscious heap.

"Okay," Lee panted, grinning, "we've got a wand, and we've got an unconscious Weasley. What're we going to do?"

"Get us out of the cells, first," said Hermione. Then she paused. They could only leave if Fred or George ordered them out, but that was under normal circumstances. He _should _be able to get them out with a simple unlocking charm. "Try alohomora."

Lee did, and to her relief, his door popped open immediately. He opened Hermione's too, and the brown-haired girl hesitantly made her way out of her cell, worried that some kind of alarms would go off, but none did. With a smile on her face, she stretched her legs, then walked over to Percy's unconscious form.

"What are we going to do with him? What are we going to do with us?" she asked.

"Wait for one of us to get called, have the other twin call the other slave, and then ditch the dungeons forever. I know we were going to stick around and play spy, but that's not going to work very well anymore, is it?"

She forced a smile.

"I suppose not. We'll have to live with Snape, though."

"He isn't so bad," Lee tried, slinging his arm around Hermione's shoulder and grinning at her. "We're all but free. I'd say dealing with him is worth it."

"The twins might be mad," Hermione sighed, not wanting to get too excited about a prospect that seemed too good to be true. "We won't be able to appear in public anymore, people will ask questions, and they loose two spies."

"Ah, all hell will be breaking loose in a few weeks anyway. No one will care until then. But, er… what should we do with Percy?"

Hermione opened her mouth to suggest they leave him where he was when voices started traveling down the steps.

"Shit," Lee cursed, looking around desperately.

"Back in the cells," Hermione hissed. Then she realized that Percy was lying unconscious on the floor. Not good.

_What am I going to do about him? There has to be something… _

"Give me the wand, Lee. Now."

He handed it to her instantly, then backed into his cell. Hermione quickly locked him in before kneeling next to Percy and whispering, "Rennervate."

The voices were getting closer, and she was sure that her heart was about two seconds away from pounding out of her chest. She hadn't actually used that spell before, and when Percy didn't move, she was sure it wasn't going to work.

Then… then his eyelids started fluttering, and she knew he was awake. Hermione quickly darted back into her cell just as his eyes focused on her.

"What the-" he started, then his eyes widened with realization when he remembered what had happened. "Give me my wand, Mudblood."

"Sorry, but I kind of need it," she smirked before whispering, "Imperio", just as the door to the dungeons opened.

A strange sensation shot down Hermione's arm, a kind of tingling warmth that somehow ran from her mind, to her wand, and in turn to Percy Weasley.

She bit her lip as she hid the wand in her shirt sleeve, waiting for him to throw it off, for something to go wrong, but all that he did was turn to face the door as Bill walked into the room, a vaguely familiar man trialing after him. Regulus Black, she thought, taking in his black hair and pale skin. Another famous face.

"Are you okay, Perce?" asked Bill. "You've been down here for a while."

"Fine," said Percy. "I just finished interrogating her, I've searched her, and there is no sign that she touched Mother's bell."

"Just finished interrogating her?" asked Bill, stepping forward curiously. "She looks fine to me. Did you even touch her?"

"Yes," said Percy. "I used the Cruciatus."

"It doesn't look like it," said Bill. The oldest Weasley brother leaned forward to study Percy carefully, and Hermione swallowed. Was there a way to tell if someone was under the Imperius Curse? Was he not going to believe Percy, no matter what he saw? "You look high."

"High?" asked Regulus, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked Percy over. "Bill, look at how dirty his back is. He was knocked to the ground."

"I fell," Percy said quickly, but Hermione knew that she was screwed.

"He's Imperiused," said Regulus, just as Percy slammed his fist into his face.

Hermione whipped his wand out a second later and shouted, "Stupefy!", firing the curse straight at Bill.

He ducked under the spell and whirled around, taking out his wand on his way up. Regulus started to draw his wand, too, but Percy yanked it out of his hand and tackled him to the ground, still under the effects of the Imperius Curse.

Lee started screaming to try to distract Bill, but the oldest Weasley brother's eyes were focused on Hermione as he shot a stream of crackling fire straight at her. A hasty protego deflected the charm, but Bill was already sending another spell at her before she had any chance to fire back.

She rolled out of the way, cursing under her breath when Regulus threw Percy off of him and into a wall. She could almost feel the connection between her and Percy break as he started blinking and asked, "Where am I?"

"Stupefy!" Hermione yelled, firing the spell at Regulus since his attention was diverted. The younger Black brother fell to the ground, but Percy scooped up his wand immediately, and suddenly it was two on one.

"Percy," she begged as Bill cast a reductor spell that blew up the bars of her cell, sending enormous chunks of metal flying at her and Lee. She managed to get a shielding charm up to protect herself, but Lee had to dive out of the way to avoid getting hit hard.

Percy held his spell for just a moment, but it was long enough. She used the small window to whip her wand and cast a nonverbal stunning spell, slightly to Bill's left, guessing which way he would jump. He reflexively moved…left. Straight into the bright yellow light.

He dropped like he'd been shot.

Percy turned on her angrily, his wand raised, and roared, "Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione dropped to the ground, the green light missing the top of her head by inches, taking out an entire section of the wall behind her in the process. Pieces of shrapnel flew, and she barely had time to bring up a weak shield before chunks of brick were flying at her.

Percy fired another curse, a quick stunning spell, but all that it did was shatter her shield. Hermione, her heart in her throat, scrambled to her feet, but had to dive out of the way of another one of Percy's spells.

"Expelliarmus," she panted as she stood up, coughing from the flying dust. The spell went to the left of Percy's head, but it was close enough that the redhead winded up stumbling and falling onto the floor. Hermione tried to cast another spell to finish him off, but a cough cut off her words, and he had his balance enough to bring up a shield before she managed a nonverbal stunner.

"Black is moving!" Lee shouted.

Great. She didn't dare to look at Regulus, but she knew that she'd need to end their battle soon. Having one of the Black brothers involved was more or less a death sentence. She wouldn't have any chance against both him and Percy.

"Crucio!" cried Percy, but the spell was too hasty and went wide right, breaking another wall and sending more dust flying.

Before he even lifted his wand to fire another curse, Hermione flourished her own and yelled, "Stupefy!"

He dropped instantly to the ground with a loud thud, and Hermione spun to knock out Regulus again when she felt a familiar tugging on her navel. She tried to stay put long enough to cast the spell, but instead she was jerked forward by something that felt a lot like a fish hook, and found herself being yanked through the air until she was spat out ungracefully on the floor of the Room of Requirement.

Ignoring the curious looks she was receiving for her ungraceful entrance, she leapt to her feet immediately, demanding, "Call Lee, too. Hurry up and call Lee!"

"Wait," said one of the twins, she was too flustered to see which one. "What?"

"Just ring for Lee!" she said, waving Percy's wand up and down desperately, sparks flying everywhere.

"Okay, okay," said one twin, George, since he took out Lee's green bell.

"What's going on?" asked Fred as George rang the bell. "Where'd you get that wand?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but cut herself off when two figures appeared in the room. Lee… with Regulus Black hanging off of him.

"Petrificus totalus," James Potter said hastily, leaping up from a chair and sending a jet of bright yellow light at Regulus. The black-haired man froze on top of Lee, his eyes the size of saucers.

"Bloody hell, what happened?" asked Ron.

"Your brothers happened," Lee said, pushing Regulus to the floor and forcing himself into a sitting position.

"Percy came to interrogate me about stealing that bell," said Hermione as she raked her hands through her wild hair. "We stole his wand, and then Bill and Regulus came…"

Muttering erupted from around the room, but Snape's voice cut through all of the others.

"You have to go back and retrieve the bodies," he said sharply. "Unless you have killed both of them."

"They aren't going back!" said George. "If our mother is down there-"

"_Think, _Mister Weasley," Snape said. "If your brothers are to relate the story to your mother, your slaves will be executed, and your father will keep an annoyingly close watch on you in the future."

"Hostages don't hurt either," said Ron.

"Just order them to go back and grab them," encouraged James. "It'll only take a few seconds. Nothing will go wrong."

"Now. Before they wake up," urged Snape.

Fred and George exchanged a look, and then Fred asked, "Is that okay with you guys?"

"Yeah, but we need to hurry. I didn't knock either of them out very hard. Bill is going to be waking up soon," said Hermione urgently, seeing Snape's point. Leaving the bodies there would be a lot more trouble than it was worth.

The twins nodded, then said, "I order you to retrieve Bill and Percy", at the same time. Hermione and Lee both turned and apparated back to the dungeons.

The moment that Hermione landed, her eyes settled on Bill. He was still lying down. Good. And Percy was… Where was Percy?

She opened her mouth to ask Lee if she saw him, but her words were cut off by a bright red light.

**A/N-**

**A little short, and there isn't much character interaction, but it was necessary. Besides, the next chapter is going to be huge and extremely eventful, so hopefully that'll make up for it.**

**I have one quick question. So far, I've done sections in Hermione, Draco, Fred, and George's POVs, trying to focus on Fred and George. Does anyone want to see someone else's POV? Or should I stick with those four? Any comments on that are appreciated.**

**That's all I have to say, so I'll go straight to acknowledging my reviewers now. **

**Thanks to-**

**obsessivegirl73**

**Hahukum Konn**

**Misses Prongs**

**TeamGredandForge**

**elizall**

**Alice Primrose Granger**

**I-Await-A-Protector**

**Amanda**

**PlantyPie**

**xXGred-ForgeXx**

**Lexi**

**Naie Masen Cullen**

**Strawberry-Green-Girl**

**solid as a cloud**

**Alexa M. Riddle**

**NewSlove- Tonks will be in the story a little, Fleur will be in the story, really soon, actually, and Viktor is going to make an appearance, too.**

**Sam**

**Carly Voldemort**

**Have Socks. Will Travel.- I guess this chapter kind of answered your question, but yeah, Mrs. Weasley did notice the bell was gone.**

**Thanks to everyone for their awesome reviews. They make writing this story so much easier, and I love getting all of the feedback on how I'm writing. Please keep it up.**

**~bballgirl32~**


	16. Bad Day

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_Sometimes the system goes on the blink_**

**_And the whole thing it turns out wrong_**

**_You might not make it back and you know_**

**_That you could be well oh that strong _**

**_And I'm not wrong_**

**_Bad Day, Daniel Powter_**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

George fidgeted restlessly as he watched James and Snape talk in hushed voices off in a corner. Lee was pacing back and forth, wringing his hands in front of him, and Harry, Ron, and Fred were already planning on how to rescue Hermione.

They were wasting their time, he knew. It wouldn't take long for his father to realize that they were the ones who ordered Hermione's behavior. Then, being caught anywhere near the manor would be the equivalent of being handed over to Dumbledore.

No, rescuing Hermione would be out. James had decided George's opinion on that the moment Lee came back with the news that she'd been caught. The building was apparently surrounded by nearly as many wards as Hogwarts and had dozens of spells lacing the hallways, causing the unused rooms to swap back and forth at daily intervals, and doors to appear and reappear in random places if you didn't know certain passwords.

But leaving Hermione? He hated the thought of it. She'd be dead within a week if they did, and even though he didn't think it would carry over to their time, he still wouldn't be able to stand it.

"We're screwed," Fred finally announced, leaning back on one of the sofas and raking a hand through his unruly hair.

"We've already figured that out," George and Lee said at the same time, then shot each other halfhearted smiles that faded as quickly as they'd come.

"We can't just leave her, though," said Harry. "She'll die."

"No, she won't," James interrupted. George looked up to see that him and Snape were rejoining the group. "We just finished discussing what we should do next, and we've come to several decisions. The first one is that Fred and George need to go into hiding. It's obvious that you've have been ordering Lee and Hermione to do things that could be considered rebellious, and it'll only get worse. You can't stay at Hogwarts any longer."

"Warrington won't like that very much. You guys have a quidditch match this weekend," said Ron. Six sets of eyes focused on the youngest Weasley brother, who blushed a deep red. "Er. Right. Not important."

George would've laughed if it had been a more appropriate time. It was even funnier because he was sure that his brother was right. Cassius would be steaming that he was short two beaters.

That wasn't the least of his worries, though, not by a long shot. Leave Hogwarts? Even if it wasn't the Hogwarts he was used to, it still felt like home to him, in a way. He was getting used to it, and now he was going to have to leave.

"Where would we stay?" asked Fred, bringing George's question back to the discussion. "And what about Snape? He just got here."

"Severus and Lee will both go with you," said James. "As for where you're going to stay, have you heard of the Delacours?"

George bit back a grin as he thought of the breathtaking blonde witch who had attended Hogwarts during the Tri-wizard tournament last year. Maybe being dragged away from Hogwarts wouldn't be _quite _as bad as he'd imagined, not if it was the Delacours he was thinking of.

"Oh, yes," said Fred. "We're somewhat familiar with the family."

"We won't mind staying there one bit," added George.

Harry's father released his breath in an exasperated whoosh of air, then said, "Very well. They're in hiding roughly thirty miles from here. I will transport you there as soon as possible."

"Waaaiiiitt," said George. "In hiding?"

"Apolline Delacour is part Veela," James explained patiently. "Not completely human. Grindelwald sees them as animals. Veelas, werewolves, half-giants, they're all treated terribly if captured. Experimented on, used as weapons, and in the case of most Veelas, sold into prostitution."

George didn't have anything to say to that, even though the thought made him sick. It seemed like this world kept getting worse and worse. Knowing about slaves was one thing, but hearing that people like Hagrid and Lupin were treated so badly made his hands shake with anger.

"Calm down, Mister Weasleys," said Snape, addressing both him and Fred. "They have been dealing with the treatment for years. For the time being, starting the war will do more for them than any foolish schemes of yours will."

"I agree," James seconded, sounding vaguely surprised at the fact. "Right now, what we have to do is get you safely to the Delacours. Then we can rescue Hermione."

"How're you going to manage that?" asked Ron. "We've been thinking for as long as you have, and haven't come close!"

James jerked his head towards the corner of the room, a small smile on his face. George followed his gaze to where Bill and Regulus were both tied up, unconscious, in the corner. For a moment he didn't follow the older man's thoughts, but this his eyes widened in realization.

"You're going to use Bill as a hostage!" he said, lighting up at the idea. It was perfect, foolproof. There was no way that Hermione was more important than one of the Weasley brothers, especially when he had a feeling that three of them were going to get blasted off the family tree sometime soon.

"Precisely," said James. "It'll blow my cover, to have me so obviously asking for your slave, but the start of the war is going to be doing that anyway. I'm going to contact some friends of mine to be sure I have a place to stay before I do it, but Harry and I will probably be running away from Hogwarts shortly after you."

"And you're okay with that?" asked Fred. "Leaving, I mean?"

"If it means the end of the war, then, yes, I'm fine."

"What about your… er… wife?" George asked hesitantly. "She isn't going with you, is she?"

James laughed a little and shook his head.

"Merlin's pants, no," he assured them. "She won't have any idea what I'm doing."

It was quiet for a moment, then Severus said, "You need to pack before news of Miss Granger's capture reaches your father."

"Watch for Draco," warned James. "If he's as suspicious as you think, he may be following you."

"Don't worry," started Fred.

"We'll just grab us another hostage if he tries to mess with us," finished George.

"Don't do anything reckless," James stressed.

"We would _never_," said Fred, his voice radiating sincerity, and then the twins headed off to start packing.

…

Hermione groaned as she forced herself into a sitting position, her head spinning rapidly. She wanted to lay back down and rest, preferably on something soft, but the sight of Percy Weasley standing in front of her made that impossible.

The moment that her eyes rested on him, everything came back in a rush. The fight. Winning. Escaping. Being ordered back. And the red light associated with stunning spells.

"I'll admit, your dueling was impressive," Percy said when he saw that she was awake. He sauntered forward and leaned against the bars of her cell. He wasn't holding his wand that time. Of course not. He wasn't stupid. "It was coming back for more that was your mistake."

"How were you even awake?" Hermione asked as she pushed her unruly hair out of her face. She made her voice harsher than usual to hide the fact that she was terrified. He may have been merciful to her before, but she had absolutely no right to expect that from him now, not after starting that duel.

"I was never knocked out," he smirked. "Your spell missed."

"Wait… So you…"

"Are not a cruel, manipulative tyrant?" asked Percy. He smirked. "No. Not like my brothers, anyway. I was going to give you a chance to escape. Then you pushed it."

Hermione clenched her hands into fists, not believing what she was saying. She'd seen the spell hit him in the chest, hadn't she?

No, she hadn't. She'd been so focused on making sure Regulus stayed down that she hadn't paid enough attention to see if her spell had actually hit Percy or not. She'd seen him drop, but that was all… He _was _telling the truth. It was the only way he would've been up and able to stun her.

"You could've just let us go again," she said finally. "That would've been the really nice thing to do."

"But I would have been taken with you," he said. "Do you think I was going to go to whatever godforsaken place you would have shipped me off to? It's bad enough that your friend kidnapped my brother-"

"Lee's safe?" she interrupted. Percy made an annoyed face.

"Yes, _Lee _is safe," he said angrily. "Now, I just need to figure out what to do with you. You do realize that kidnapping Bill was the _stupidest _thing you could have done, don't you? My father will most likely have you sent to an extermination camp after he gets information out of you. You'll be dead within the week if I keep you here."

"You don't want me dead," said Hermione, a statement, not a question. Percy's dark gaze met hers.

"Don't take it as a compliment. You're more useful to me alive."

"You tried to kill me before," she pointed out, somewhat unhelpfully.

"I lost my temper. It was a mistake. Don't think I don't realize that it'd be a waste of resources to kill you before getting some important information out of your pretty little head. I'm sure that Fred ordered you to get that bell, I can't see how else you would've gotten out of your cell, or where else it would be right now, and I need you to tell me why."

"Percy," Hermione said, trying to keep him from jumping to conclusions. "Just forget about the bell. It's really complicated."

"You can tell me," said Percy darkly, "or you can tell my father. It's your choice."

"Or I can be tortured until I die and not tell anyone," she said, sounding a lot braver than she felt. She vaguely wondered if she would go as far as to die to keep her secrets, then pushed the thought from her head. It hadn't come to that yet.

"Don't be stupid," said Percy. "We know it was Fred. If you die, then my father will drag him over here and force him into telling us why he did it. You don't want him dead, too, do you?"

"Please, please just let me go," she said, trying to sound strong, but her voice came out incredibly pleading.

He stared at her speculatively for a long time before he finally said, "Okay, I'll let you go. If you tell me what my brother is up to."

"I can't. I honestly can't. I- I was ordered not to," she tried desperately, grasping at straws.

"That doesn't matter anymore," snorted Percy. He stopped his pacing and turned to face her, smirking amusedly. "I deactivated you so that Fred couldn't call you away. You are no longer a slave."

She was free, in the loosest sense of the word. Too bad that she would have given anything to be a slave again at just that moment. That announcement barely even phased her.

"Okay. I can tell you," she admitted. "I just don't know if I'm going to or not."

"Don't you?" asked Percy. "Because I can call my father down here and have him speak to you if you'd rather tell him."

Hermione bit her lip, honestly not knowing what she should say. She was terrified of Arthur Weasley, even if she hated to admit it.

Bill was brutal. The actual twins lived for what their idea of fun was. Percy was overly ambitious. And Ginevra was a bitch. But their father seemed to have the worst of each of the five 'bad' Weasleys times ten in himself. By personality alone, he was more dangerous than Dumbledore or Grindelwald.

She really, really did not want to be on the business side of his wand.

But cooperating with Percy? She couldn't tell him what the twins were up to, and in the magical world, it was so easy to know if someone was lying. There was a spell, legilimency, potions… it would be obvious if she was making something up.

So what could she possibly do?

"If you let me go, and you need my help in the future, I will help you, no matter what," Hermione finally said. "I'll owe you a life debt."

"When would I run into you in the future?" he asked, looking like he thought it was the stupidest idea in the world. Hermione caught his eye and refused to look away.

"There's trouble brewing, and if you don't make the right choices, you're going to be one of the first ones targeted. I could save your life."

His face turned grave, and she knew that he believed her, that he was considering her words carefully.

"You're talking about an uprising, aren't you?" he asked. "I don't know what other kind of trouble you think I'd be concerned about."

"I'll answer that question if you let me go."

There was a very long silence while she saw every little gear in that oversized brain of his whirling, weighing the pros and cons, seeing each scenario that every possible decision could cause. If anything, Percy Weasley was definitely not stupid.

"If you tell me, I'll make sure that you get out of this alive. That's all I can promise you," he said finally.

She wasn't surprised. Having someone on the other side who would help him if necessary would be incredibly advantageous if there was an uprising, especially when his family would be targeted so fiercely.

Hermione didn't hesitate.

"Don't tell your parents, and we have a deal."

Percy considered that, then, finally, said, "Okay. Fine."

"You're sure?" she asked. He nodded impatiently, waiting. The brown-haired witch smirked. "Then you won't have any problem exchanging Unbreakable Vows, will you?"

She continued speaking when she saw the appalled look on his face, making her voice as smooth and convincing as possible. "You do realize that if I die, Lee is going to blame you, and you do not want that. He will hunt you down and kill you. And if you do not cooperate, I _will _die. Therefore-"

Percy yanked out an immaculate white bell and rang it harshly, too concerned with his own safety to pay attention to the fact that Lee had very little shot at killing him in the first place.

Within seconds, an exceptionally well-groomed 'slave' popped into the room. Hermione supposed that it wasn't an actual slave, not like she was supposed to be. It was a half-blood attendant, handed out specifically by the government and regulated carefully.

"You needed me, Master?" the half-blood asked, bowing his head slightly. Perfectly obedient. Hermione glared at the attendant, angry that someone could be so pathetic.

"I am going to give you my wand," said Percy. "You are not allowed to perform any magic with it apart from acting as a Bonder for our Unbreakable Vows. You are also not allowed to give it to the slave in the cell, or drop it in a manner that will allow her to grab it."

The attendant nodded stiffly, and Percy handed him his wand. Then he looked to Hermione, indicating with his head that she should approach the bars of her cell.

"What are the conditions, specifically?" she asked.

"I will do my best to keep you alive," he said. "In exchange, you will not only tell me if there is going to be an uprising, but do _everything _in your power to protect me if there is ever a time when I'm in danger."

"And you'll keep this conversation secret," added Hermione. "_All _of it."

He nodded. "And I'll keep this entire conversation secret. I'll order Finnegan to do so as well."

"Good. Now, shall we begin?" she asked. He nodded and stuck his arm through the bars of her cell. After only a moment's deliberation, the brown-haired witch closed her hand around his warm, sweaty fingers.

"Finnegan? After each of us say 'I Will', you are going to place the tip of your wand on our hands. Got it?" The slave nodded, and Hermione began.

"Will you do your best to make sure that I get out of Weasley Manor alive and without serious physical or emotional injury, going to every measure to ensure my safety unless it would result in death or serious injury to yourself?"

"I will," answered Percy, dark eyes boring into hers.

The attendant nervously touched the wand on their conjoined hands, and thick tongues of fire wound around them.

Percy waited for it to fade before asking, "Will you pay off the life debt that you will owe me if you escape, dying for me if it is required?"

Hermione swallowed, praying that she wouldn't regret this later.

"I will."

Another touch of the wand. More fire.

"Will you keep this whole conversation, including everything that I tell you from here on out, entirely to yourself?" she asked.

"I will."

Wand. Fire.

"Will you truthfully inform me if there is going to be an uprising, war, or anything of the sort?"

"I will."

The attendant touched the wand to their hands for the last time, fire snaking around their arms. When it was gone, Hermione stepped back, bowing her head in resignation at what she had just done.

She was now in Percy Weasley's hands, but he was also in hers.

He would make sure that his father didn't kill her, and she would protect him with her life if circumstances required it.

Neither could betray the other.

"Now tell me," said Percy. "Is there going to be an uprising?"

Hermione swallowed, then nodded.

"Uprising. War. Things are going to fall apart, and soon."

She watched carefully as the redhead nodded tersely, then ordered his slave, "You are not to tell anyone of this", before spinning on his heel and walking stiffly out of the dungeons, black cloak billowing behind him.

_Did I just make a huge mistake? _

No. Actually, she'd gotten out of that better than she ever could have expected, as long as circumstances never arose that put her in a position where she'd have to go to great lengths to fulfill that life debt.

And honestly, what were the odds of that happening?

**A/N- **

**A little short, again, but there's so much planning that goes into setting up a war that it starts taking up whole chapters. Oh, well. The next chapter will be very exciting. At least one duel, and not half as many boring conversation.**

**I am sorry to inform you that I start school next week, which means that my 11 p.m.- 1 a.m. designated writing time is going to have to go, along with my weekly updates. I'd say to look for chapters every 12-16 days or so. Just to warn you that chapters won't be up as fast anymore.**

**Lastly, I've decided to stick with the 4 POVs that I have been, unless something comes along that demands a different one. Thanks for all the input on that.**

**Now, to acknowledge all of my wonderful reviewers.**

**Thanks to-**

**obsessivegirl73- Nah, I never tried to join. I was going to, but then I kept spacing off on it until it was too late. I'll probably join in October, though.**

**David Fishwick**

**Crycoria**

**MizukiMai**

**xXGred-ForgeXx**

**NewSlove**

**Misses Prongs**

**TeamGredAndForge**

**CyilEib**

**ScottishTimeLady**

**Have Socks. Will Travel.- The twins are the only romances I'm doing away with, even though I'm honestly still not sure who's ending up with who. But Hermione/Viktor could be a possibility.**

**Alice Primrose Granger**

**Lexi**

**Alexa M. Riddle**

**Nobody297SRS- Sirius is going to pop up pretty quickly, and Lupin's going to appear, too, even though his role is definitely not going to be conventional. Neville is going to play a pretty big part, too, once the war actually starts, but if Cedric appears, it'll probably just be a cameo.**

**Tape Monkey- Rita and Mad-Eye are both going to be in the story, and house elves were all killed off when Grindelwald came to power, so they're extinct.**

**And there's everyone. Please keep up the awesome reviewing, and I'll try to update ASAP.**

**~bballgirl32~**


	17. Long Black Train

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**There's a long black train, **_

_**Comin down the line, **_

_**Feedin off the souls that are lost and cryin', **_

_**Rails of sin, only evil remains. **_

_**Watch out brother for that long black train.**_

_**Long Black Train, Josh Turner**_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

Fred hastily emptied all of his dresser drawers, throwing everything in sight haphazardly into his trunk. Roger, Cassius, and Jared were watching both him and George groggily, but they weren't suspicious. George had told them that their father had called them home on urgent business, and absolutely no questions were asked.

After mentally debating whether or not he should take any of his school books, Fred left them in a corner, then clicked the top of his trunk shut.

"Ready Forge?" he asked as he easily picked up the magically lightened trunk.

"For the last ten minutes, Gred," George said, rolling his eyes and standing up. He turned to look at the other three boys and gave them a halfhearted smile. "Er. We'll see you later. Sometime."

"By Saturday?" yawned Warrington.

"Um. Not sure," Fred said, already half way out of the room. "You've got those backup beaters, just incase we don't make it. Bye now."

And then they hastily left the room, only to be met by the sight of their sister sitting on one of the silver armchairs, watching them carefully with hazel eyes.

"Where are you two going?" Ginny asked suspiciously, and the twins froze. Fred didn't miss the way that she was twirling her wand lazily in her fingers. Why wasn't she asleep? It was one in the morning.

"None of your business, Ginevra," replied Fred waspishly, doing his best to sound angry and haughty, just like he figured the old Fred would've done. She snorted out a laugh, her heavily made up eyes narrowing at him dangerously. In the creepy light that the fire was throwing out, she looked evil. Like a redheaded Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I believe that it is. Father would not want you going on this trip, would he?" she asked.

"Well, actually," said George. "He happened to call us home himself."

"No he didn't," Ginny laughed. "I just spoke with him over the Floo. Apparently your slave seems to have been receiving some suspicious orders, Fred."

_Uh-oh. This is not good. _

"Then it's a good thing I lost my bell," he laughed nervously. "Not my fault."

Ginny pushed herself slowly out of the chair, and Fred could see in her eyes that she didn't believe him at all.

But why wouldn't she? He hadn't even spoken to her, so what in the world would have made her suspicous? Not like it was important at the moment. Before he worried about anything, him and George needed to get to the Delacour's.

"I don't think you did, Fred," Ginny said, ambling over to them slowly. "And I think that Dumbledore is going to need to know about this."

Fred didn't know what happened next. He just knew that him and George needed to get out, that Ginny was going to get them in huge trouble, and that there was no way that his bitchy not-sister was going to ruin everything.

So he curled his fist and punched her in the face as hard as he could, sending her stumbling backwards, crashing into a coffee table and smashing the glass center with what seemed like an ear-splitting shatter.

"Come on, we need to get out," George encouraged, even as Fred stared in shock at what he'd done. He… he'd just punched his baby sister. "_Fred_," hissed George. "It's not Ginny. Come on. We have to go."

Have to go. Right.

"Hey! What's going on?"

_Oh shit. Not Malfoy! _

Fred and George both took off at full speed, hurrying out of the common room and into the hallway, going straight for the nearest secret passageway. People were screaming after them, muttering and cursing at the noise so earlier in the morning.

"Lumos," murmured Fred once they were in the dark passage. It'd lead them right to the front door, so there wasn't anything left to worry about, but the close encounter still had his heart thudding against his ribcage.

Neither him or George spoke as they slunk through the dim corridor, having to stoop in several places to avoid hitting their heads. James and Snape would meet them right outside of the castle with their brooms, and they'd be able to fly to the Delacour's from there.

When they approached the thick wooden door that signaled the end of the passage, Fred saw George draw his wand. Just incase, no doubt. Holding his own wand so tightly that his knuckles turned white, Fred pushed the door open.

There, standing in front of them, was a very smug-looking Draco Malfoy with at least a dozen Grindelwalds behind him, and Ginny at his side.

"Don't you think it was obvious where you would have to go to exit the school?" Draco drawled, a smirk on his pale face. "You weren't going to get away that easily."

"Ring for Lee," Fred whispered to George, his voice shaking uncertainly. It wasn't much, but it was all the help that they could get.

"And bring him into this?" asked George. He shook his head, then stepped forward, raising his hands innocently. Fred cursed, but did the same.

"We are doing nothing wrong," he said, infusing his voice with as much confidence and charisma as possible. "Come on, Draco. You know us."

"I _knew _you," the blond sneered. He stepped forward with a raised wand, keeping his eyes focused on the two of them. "Now, you will be turned in to-"

"What is going on here?"

_Minnie! _

Fred never thought he'd ever be relieved to see his Transfiguration teacher in his life, but there were very few people he'd rather have seen step from the shadows at that moment.

"Draco is threatening us," said George quickly. "Look! It's fourteen against two."

McGonagall's dark eyes immediately focused on the two of them, and for just a second, Fred found his hope fading. He knew she hadn't liked the other twins, and it looked like she still thought it was them, like she was going to take Malfoy's side, and then-

"Reducto!"

At first Fred wondered what in the hell McGonagall was doing, firing straight at the ceiling, but as soon as chunks of rock and clouds of dust started falling, he realized that she'd made them a perfect distraction.

"Don't let them get away!" shouted Draco, but Fred and George were already weaving their way through the panicked students, not needing to see through the thick dust because they could feel where the other one was.

By the time that the panicked eased and the dust settled, they were nearly to the door. Someone fired a curse at Fred that missed by inches, and he quickly turned and fired a stunning spell in the general direction of the crowd.

"Ignore them," coughed George. "We've got to hurry."

Fred shot one more spell, then ducked out the main door, shutting it firmly behind him just as a fierce round of hexes was sent his way.

"James?" Fred panted. "If you're out here, we've got to go!"

His black-haired professor appeared in a moment, Snape standing right behind him.

"Lee is staying in the Room of Requirement until you get there," James said when George started searching for the fifth member of the party. "Now come on."

Suddenly Fred found a broom shoved into his already full hands, and he hesitated, not sure what to do with his trunk. James shook his head impatiently and held out what, to Fred, looked like a small duffle bag.

"Put your trunks in it," ordered Snape impatiently. "Quickly."

"Right, quickly," Fred said, shoving his trunk in the general direction of the bag. After making a loud munching sound, the bag's mouth opened widely enough to eat the trunk, then shrunk down to its normal size. George quickly did the same, and then they were off just as the door burst open.

Draco glared after them, and Fred found it appropriate to send a friendly single-fingered gesture in the blond's direction.

"The faces of the rebellion," Snape sneered, and Fred shot him his most charming smile.

"You love us, and you know it, Sevy."

"I would love you more if you were to become a martyr for the cause," replied Snape cryptically.

"Ah, you'll come around," grinned George. "You loved us in the other world."

There was no answer, and the conversation stopped completely.

Fred didn't really like the stony silence, but after flying through the icy air for a few minutes, his teeth were chattering so hard that he didn't think he could even speak if he wanted to. The wind was howling, his fingers were frozen to his broomstick, and after flying through several clouds, his thin cloak was soaked through.

Several times, he was extremely tempted to ask if they were almost there, but he couldn't be bothered to open his frozen mouth.

Then, after what felt like hours and hours of useless flying, James raised a hand and gestured for them to start descending. As he lowered himself closer to the ground, Fred was shocked to see that they were in the middle of what looked like an enormous city. He'd expected some little mountain hide out, but this looked like a full-scale city.

"What would the Delacours be doing here?" asked George nervously.

"Hiding in plain sight," said James. "Are you familiar with the Fidelius charm?"

Fred resisted the urge to groan as an entire summer of staying inside and doing nothing came back to him. Hiding in plain sight meant no going outside, no peeking out windows, and lots of boring, boring pacing.

"Unfortunately," he sighed. James nodded, looking pleased, then waved them down in front of a row of destroyed buildings. The black-haired man reached into his pocket to procure a slip of paper, then handed it to George, who in turn handed it to Fred.

Fred quickly read the paper, which said, _Number 9, Phoenix Drive is the Delacour's hideaway. _

As soon as he had read the words, one of the larger buildings became new again, the collapsed parts unfolding themselves, all of the paint turning shiny and new, and an ivory door rising up from the ground. Altogether, it formed a rather grand home.

"Welcome to your new home," said James, and then he led the twins inside.

The first thing that Fred noticed was how warm the house was, especially compared to Grimmauld Place. The floors were covered in soft, thick carpet, all of the walls were painted in soft browns or smooth ivories, and there were touches of home scattered everywhere, from pictures of Gabrielle and Fleur to toys and books scattered around haphazardly.

It was perfect.

"They'll be in here," said James, stopping in front of a white door. "I take it that you can introduce yourselves because I have to get back immediately. Ring Lee before you go in, and take care."

Then he was gone, and the twins were left alone with Snape. George quickly followed James's advice and summoned Lee, and then Snape knocked regally on the door.

Fred could just make out hurried French erupting in the other room, an argument, maybe, and then the door was pulled open, revealing who Fred recognized immediately as Fleur Delacour. The beautiful blonde witch looked almost exactly like she had at Hogwarts, and he couldn't help a charming smile from flitting across his lips. It was a twin thing.

Then George did something that was definitely _not _a twin thing.

He muttered something under his breath that Fred could not understand, his eyes got dark, and he stepped forward and grabbed Fleur, pulling her roughly in his direction and pressing his lips to hers, completely ignoring the French girl's struggles.

_Oh, shit. _

Fred cursed furiously as he grabbed his brother's arm and yanked him backwards off of Fleur, who backed away instantly with wide eyes.

"What in the hell are you doing, Fred?" George asked heatedly, pulling out his wand like he was ready to fight over her.

"George," pleaded Fred. "Please just calm down. You're not thinking straight."

"What is going on 'ere?" Mademoiselle Delacour asked, rushing over to the door.

"Damn, even her mother is hot," said George, effectively digging a bigger hole for himself. Taking advantage of his brother's distraction, Fred fired a stunning spell that hit him right in the chest, almost feeling the pain himself when he saw George crumple to the ground.

"'e keesed me!" said Fleur angrily. "I thought zat zey were good!"

"We are," said Fred hurriedly. He looked around to see Snape and Lee looking at him worriedly, too. "It's just… Er. You've all heard the whole time traveling story, right?"

"Yes, we have," Snape said impatiently. "And?"

"Well, I probably should've mentioned this earlier, but sometimes, when we see or feel things that the Fred and George who originally existed in this timeline would have reacted to strongy, they kind of… take over our brains. Like the other Fred had a superiority complex, so if someone would stand up to me, he'd probably come out. And, er, I guess I never really saw this before, but I suppose George had a weakness for girls, so…"

"Zis is insane!" Mademoiselle Delacour crowed. "To 'ave 'im living weeth my daughters? Why was I not told of zis?"

"James didn't know," Fred explained. "Er, but don't worry. It's not permanent. When he wakes up, he'll be fine. It only lasts for a few moments, and it's been days, maybe weeks since I've lost control, and this is only George's second time, so it's not really anything to worry about-"

"I am afraid we must discuss this new piece of information," Snape said gravely. "Feel free to attend to your brother. Mister Jordan? Stay with them."

Then he disappeared into the other room with Fleur and her mother.

Fred moaned and sank to the ground, Lee beside him a moment later.

"It'll be okay. There's no where else for you to go. You have to stay here," he said. Even though Fred appreciated the attempt to comfort him, it didn't help very much.

"Oh, I'm sure that they'll think of plenty of places to put us," he mumbled hopelessly. "I can't believe it. We're in hiding for ten seconds, and we're already going to get kicked out. And- God, what if George reacts like that every time that he sees her? He's going to turn into a sexual predator for Merlin's sake! No wonder her mother doesn't want us here."

Lee didn't have anything to say to that, and the two boys slipped into a worried silence.

…

Hermione sat in her cell and stared at the wall. That was basically all that she could do. There was no more Lee. Percy had not visited her since they made their vow, and Arthur Weasley apparently had no wish to see her at the moment.

Time ticked away uneventfully.

She supposed that she should be expecting some sort of attempt for her rescue, but she wasn't confident that it was going to happen. This house was too well fortified. Getting in was improbable, getting out after you did get in was nearly impossible.

So she waited. And waited. And waited.

Her stomach grumbled with hunger, but there was no one around to hear it, so it continued to grumble.

Then, finally, the door creaked open, and a familiar figure ran into the dungeons.

"My father is back," said Percy, his voice low and quick. "He'll come down here to interview you within moments. All that I have time to tell you is that Fred and George have escaped. Nothing you say can hurt them right now, so if anything, blame it all on them.

"He's talked to a spy who's been following the twins, and already knows about the war, Ron's, and the Potter's involvement in it. If you divulge enough information and speak without too much prompting, he'll think that it's everything you know. It won't spare you from torture, but I may be able to ask a few favors and keep you alive."

Then Percy sent her one last cautioning look, and ran like crazy for the steps, no doubt wanting to get away from the dungeons before his father found him down there. Hermione looked after him, hardly having time to take in his words before the door opened once more.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a flowing velvet cape, Arthur Weasley walked into the room with impeccable posture, his nose raised haughtily in the air.

Half of his face was scarred by dark magic that had been cast on him by one of his prisoners. The eye on that side was blank white and unseeing, but it was still fixed on her in a way that made her stomach go weak. His other eye, a brown so dark that it was nearly black, was scheming and piercing, and way too intelligent for her liking.

One of his gloved hands held a walking cane with a dragon-shaped handle, and she'd heard that if he pressed down on the head, the mouth would release flames. In the other hand was his wand, long, thin, and responsible for more deaths than any other in wizarding history.

He was the image of terrifying.

Hermione sat on her hands to keep them from shaking.

"What is your name, slave?" the Weasley patriarch asked in a deep, commanding voice.

"Hermione Granger," she said. There was no way that she was going to risk lying to him on something so unimportant. Maybe, if she'd understood Percy correctly, she wouldn't have to risk lying at all. The twins were gone, he knew a war was starting, and he knew most of the people who were involved. That was basically as much as she knew.

"Well, Miss Granger, it appears that you have been acting rather inappropriately. Rebelliously, even. Do you care to explain yourself?"

Taking only a moment to swallow her pride, she fell to her knees in front of him and started sobbing out the whole story, edited only slightly. Fred forced her into everything. Him and George were starting a war with the help of James Potter, and Ron was helping, too. They'd ordered her to steal the bell, and try to take out Bill and Percy, and she hadn't had a choice except to follow along.

Never, under her own will, would she ever even _think _about going against her great leaders, and oh, God, did she feel guilty for her actions.

Before she was finished, she had managed to coax tears into her eyes, her face was flushed and twisted in desperation, and her wild hair added a very nice touch. She was the image of an innocent, misused little girl.

Arthur Weasley nodded tersely, then wordlessly turned out of the room with an air of unmistakable superiority.

Hermione collapsed to the ground in relief, praying that she wouldn't have to deal with him ever again.

…

**A/N- **

**Okay, I got a quick one out just before school started. It's kind of late, but I've been messing around with another story and kind of got sidetracked. But thanks to everyone for being so understanding about the whole school thing. **

**I don't have anything else to say, so I'll do my reviewer acknowledgements and get the chapter posted. **

**Thanks to- **

**LunaPadma**

**Misses Prongs**

**xXGred-ForgeXx- Nope, I've never mentioned Charlie, and that's on purpose. If you noticed last chapter, when Hermione was listing characteristics of the 'bad' Weasleys, she didn't say anything about him, and that's as much of a hint as I'll give. **

**obsessivegirl73**

**Tape Monkey**

**Alice Primrose Granger **

**TeamGredAndForge**

**Laura**

**Frinja- All three of them are pretty important. Charlie won't make an appearance until later, Bill will jump in and out of the story, and Fleur's going to have a big part throughout the rest of it. **

**Have Socks. Will Travel. **

**Romantic-At-Heart- Thanks for the ideas. I don't know how many pairings I'll include, but I'm pretty sure that I'll use at least two of them. **

**cassdsassyangel**

**solid as a cloud **

**panneler-san- If I do do Fred/George pairings, they won't be very serious. They'll be spending most of their time planning a war, and getting back to their own dimension would kind of ruin anything that happens, but I can't really say that there's zero chance of them happening. **

**Lexi**

**David Fishwick**

**Alexa M. Riddle **

**Please keep up all of the awesome reviews. ****~bballgirl32~**


	18. I Won't Let Go

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**It's like a storm**_

_**That cuts a path **_

_**It breaks your will**_

_**It feels like that**_

_**You think you're lost**_

_**But you're not lost on your own **_

**_You're not alone._**

**_I Won't Let Go, Rascal Flatts_**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

George groaned and put a hand to his head, blinking slightly as he let his eyes adjust to the bright light. At first he started to panic, not recognizing the caramel-colored ceiling above him, but then the last few hours flew back into his memory.

The fight. Flying through the freezing cold air. The Delacour's house. And Fleur…

_Oh, shit. Fleur. _

He jerked up into a sitting position, almost clanking his forehead against Fred's, who was leaning over him, worry evident in his eyes. George swallowed, knowing that he didn't deserve the worry. Maybe the other George had kissed Fleur, but that didn't mean that _he _hadn't liked it.

Merlin. He was a pervert. A terrible person. A-

"Please tell me you're okay," Fred said desperately, interrupting George's internal crisis.

"Okay?" asked George. "Why wouldn't I…" He trailed off, remembering the stunning spell Fred had fired at him. He could still feel the aftereffects a little, but that was nothing compared to the guilt that was burning a terrible hole in his stomach. "Yeah, Fred. I'm fine."

"I didn't want to curse you, but-"

"But I deserved it," he muttered, raking a hand through his shaggy hair. "Merlin, how in the heck is this happened to us, Fred? We were the good-guys, the ones everyone liked. And now…"

"Now we're ticking time bombs," Fred said, sinking down next to George. "I mean, these little moments aren't terrible, but what if…"

He trailed off, not needing to say anymore. George knew exactly what he was going to say. What if the old Fred or George took over, but didn't go away? Even just thinking about that made him sick.

It wouldn't even be that bad if there was a way to fight it. Him and Fred were stubborn as mules. If it was just a matter of gritting their teeth and holding off bad thoughts, that would be easy. But, instead, they didn't even recognize the thoughts as bad. He couldn't tell a difference between his own mind and old George's, not until afterwards, when he realized what he'd done.

Like more or less molested Fleur Delacour.

"So," said George, fishing for something, anything to get his mind off of what he'd done… and how much he'd liked it. "What now?"

"We're staying," said Fred. There was a short pause before he gave George an apologetic look. "But you can only see Fleur and Gabrielle with supervision." George started to protest, but his twin quickly continued, saying, "Yeah, I know Gabrielle is a little extreme, but their mum refused to budge."

After that, the twins slipped into silence, having nothing to do but wait for what was going to come next.

…

The Great Hall was in an uproar at breakfast the next day. Everywhere people were gossiping, switching between Fred and George's departure, McGonagall's escape, and news of the Potter family's disappearance.

Draco remained silent as he observed his schoolmates.

Ginevra Weasley was looking very unconcerned, considering that it was her brothers who were essentially traitors. Ronald, on the other hand, was downright frightened. His hands were shaking, and his face was even whiter than usual. He was no doubt guilty of something or another.

Across the room, the Cassius Warrington and Roger Davies were in an uproar, while Jared Macmillan studied a spoonful of oatmeal with an intensity high enough to make Draco wonder about his mental stability. Pansy was sobbing into Daphne's shoulder about cruel, cruel fate. Angelina wouldn't shut up about how surprised she was.

But the reaction that interested him the most was that of Albus Dumbledore. The loony old man did not appear angry, or even upset. No. He looked happy, as if he had just won something. That was more than suspicious.

"Draco, what do you think about the twins?" Angelina pressed, bringing the blond's gaze back to her.

That was a good question because, in all honesty, Draco had no idea what to think. He'd never liked Dumbledore or Grindelwald, but the idea of the twins helping the mudbloods was positively ludicrous. The idea he had before came to mind, about them just wanting to rule everything for themselves, but then they'd have no reason to be working with the Potters.

"That they're morons," said Draco finally. Ron's gaze darted up to where he was sitting, and it looked like the youngest Weasley wanted to snap at him for talking bad about his brothers, but knew how stupid it would be to defend them. He shook his head, wondering what in the hell the twins were thinking, leaving him behind.

Angelina murmured an agreement, but there were others who did not seem to argue quite so much. Neville Longbottom and Ernie Macmillan both looked distinctly uncomfortable in their places surrounding him, and the Patil twins were shooting Draco nasty looks from across the table.

More traitors. No doubt they'd be telling their parents to get them away from the school pretty soon, so they could join the rebel forces.

Draco was just about to leave the noisy Great Hall when the doors burst open. He swallowed upon seeing Arthur Weasley himself storm into the room. Sirius Black stood on his right, Fabian Prewett on his left. The big three. The prison warden, the head of the military, and the director of the Palace.

For the first time, he understood just how serious the situation was.

"No one is to leave the Great Hall," barked Weasley, sending several younger students scurrying back to their seats. "We have urgent matters to discuss."

There was a short silence, and then Sirius Black took it upon himself to continue addressing the students.

"Several prominent purebloods have left the school to join what we believe is a rebel uprising. This is believed to have been in the making for a good amount of time, and the situation is to be regarded with the utmost amount of severity. This uprising truly threatens our way of life, and must be eliminated immediately. If anyone has information on the matter, please step forward."

Draco did, but not enough. Arthur Weasley was practically omniscient, and no doubt knew more than Draco did. There was no reason for him to speak. Ronald Weasley did not move either, but out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Ginevra glance at Dumbledore. The Headmaster shook his head, and the redhead resumed watching her hands.

The Great Hall remained dead silent.

"I see," said Arthur, deciding to speak once more. "So no one has noticed _anything _suspicious?"

No one so much as breathed.

"Very well then," he said disgustedly. "And, may I ask, do any of you have plans of joining my idiot sons?"

Obviously no one said a word. Even if they did want to go, that would practically be suicide. Even the first years weren't stupid enough to give themselves up.

Fabian took it upon himself to continue.

"It appears that you are not as stupid as you look. This knowledge pleases us greatly. Now, to make sure that none of you are going to change your minds when our backs are turned, we are going to put the school under lockdown. No students are to leave the grounds under any circumstances. Failure to comply will result in your immediate execution. By the end of the day, there will be two hundred Durmstrang soldiers here to keep you in, and the rebels out. Do you all understand?"

Draco made a face. Durmstrang soldiers? They had to be kidding. For as much as Grindelwald liked them, they were more animals than people. This lockdown wouldn't last long, not with idiots who'd let people out Hogwarts for a cupcake.

"Good," said Fabian, even though none of the students gave him any sort of response. "I believe that we are finished here."

"Yes," agreed Weasley, his good eye fixing on the only son he had remaining at the school. "Ronald, come with us."

His tone of voice made it obvious that Ron was in trouble. Not getting yelled at trouble, but possibly being _killed _trouble. What had Potter been thinking, leaving him by himself? Were they actually dumb enough to think that he'd be safe, or did they really not care?

For a very, very long time, everything went quiet. Ron was so pale that he looked like a corpse, and there were several students, more Dumbledores than Grindelwalds, who looked like they wanted to help the youngest Weasley boy out.

"Now, Ronald," ordered the warden.

Time froze. Neville Longbottom stood first, quickly followed by Ernie Macmillan. Almost like he was just following his younger brother, Jared stood up next. Cassius and Roger looked at him with bulging eyes, and the skinny dark-haired boy muttered, "Do you want him to die?"

Cassius stood. Roger, very loudly, commented, "Better him than me."

Daphne, Angelina, and Pansy exchanged glances. Angelina stood.

Within a matter of seconds, half of the students in the Great Hall, out of their seats, with their wands pointed at Arthur Weasley. Draco looked to Dumbledore, expecting him to do something, but the old man only sat there, hands folded in front of him, looking like he was enjoying himself.

"What," growled the warden, "is going on?"

"You can't take Ron with you," Neville said firmly. "We won't let you."

Draco knew that would do it. Arthur Weasley was not ordered around. With blinding speed, the warden fired a curse at Neville. In his haste, it went several feet too high, but it caused everything to blow up. Students started cursing each other, the spells so thick that he couldn't see five feet in front of his face.

Years of Battle Training kicked in, and found himself firing curses with the rest of them. Like everyone else, he basically shot at anyone moving. He didn't know who was on what side, he just knew that he either hit them, or they hit him.

His eyes locked on Cassius Warrington, and he fired a stunning spell at him, then whirled around to find someone else when he saw something that froze him in place. Sirius Black and Arthur Weasley were dueling.

He had no idea who was on what side, or what in the hell they were doing, but it was the most entrancing thing he had ever seen. Their spells were designed to kill, but all of them were dodged or blocked with moves that he hadn't even thought possible.

"Ronald! Run!" Sirius shouted while Arthur was reeling from one of his curses. Draco backed up in surprise. His uncle… no. He couldn't be a traitor. That didn't make any sense.

"Draco, come, we have to go," Lucius said from right behind Draco, causing him to jump slightly. His father had blood streaming from his nose, and his face was blackened with soot, but it looked like he was okay.

"Right, go-" he started, then cut himself off when someone shot a blinding flash of blue-white light in their direction. He saw it on time to jump out of the way, but it hit his father full on. Draco watched in horror as he saw Lucius slowly turn to solid rock, his face frozen into an expression of shock.

A moment later, another flash of light came from the same direction, and Draco's father was blown into thousands of pieces. Too shocked, too angry to even think, he numbly turned to see Fabian Prewett looking in his direction. The red-haired man let out a loud curse when he saw Draco, probably because he hadn't realized he'd been firing at Lucius Malfoy, or maybe because he hadn't wanted to get caught.

Draco didn't care. He just knew that the arsehole had killed his father, and that he was going to pay for it. His actions dictated by anger, he flourished his wand and boomed, "Avada Kedavra!"

An eerie green light lip up the Great Hall, Prewett had just enough time to make a noise of surprised, and then he fell to the ground, dead. Behind him, he saw Arthur Weasley look at the scene just long enough for Sirius Black to stun him, and then everything turned into a blur.

Sirius running, telling Draco to follow. The blond was too numb to say no or listen. He wanted out of the room where his father had died, and so he went with Sirius Black. Ron Weasley popped up somewhere along the line. Then they were outside. He was shoved into a carriage. Someone was making terrible noises that were painful to listen to. Sirius was talking quickly and urgently.

And all Draco could think about was his father. There one moment. Bursting into pieces the next.

Even though he hadn't really liked Lucius much, he was still his father. He still loved him somewhere, deep down. And seeing someone he considered invincible die like that, so easily… it was impossible to wrap his head around.

Someone was still moaning. It was starting to take Draco out of his numbness, and he opened his mouth to snap at whoever it was to shut up when he realized that he was sticky with blood. His father flew to the back of his mind, and he jerked up, looking over himself in panic. He hadn't been hit, had he? Was he going to die, was he-

He stopped panicking when another pain-filled groan filled the air. Ron Weasley was making the noises from right beside him. Draco's eyes settled on the bloody fabric wrapped around the place where the other boy's hand should've been, and he tried to scramble away. Instead, he slammed into a puffy-leather wall.

"Calm down, Mister Malfoy, Mister Weasley. You'll both be fine," Sirius Black said. Draco jerked his head in his direction, fumbling for his wand, but when the tall, dark-haired man held out his own wand, the blonde froze. "I saved your life, Mister Malfoy. Think about that before you attempt to kill me."

"You saved me from nothing," hissed Draco. Black was a filthy traitor. An idiot, too, if he gave up his position for something as stupid as saving Ronald Weasley.

Black was starting to look angry by then, his dark eyes narrowed almost into slits. The effect was heightened by the blood and ash splattered across his face. "Are you foolish enough to think that you would have been kept alive after killing the Warden's brother-in-law? If you stayed there, you would have been dead instantly." He shook his head, then continued, "Not that it would have been an enormous loss."

If Sirius Black hadn't been pointing his wand at Draco, he probably would have thrown a fit, but that would have been stupid. No. The traitor was right. Draco would have been dead if he'd stayed there. So, instead he shot a disgusted look in Ron's direction, and asked, "Can you at least make the bleeding stop?"

"If I could, I would have already. It's a curse I've never seen before. Don't worry, we will be to an appropriate hideout soon and you can clean out your fingernails there."

"How do you know I wasn't worried about him dying?" Draco asked, poking the somewhat-unconscious Weasley in the shoulder. He groaned and shifted position. Still alive for the moment, at least.

"Because, I'm not that stupid," Sirius said.

They fell silent. Draco looked out the window, deciding that he was in what was most likely a dragon-pulled carriage. Probably the one that Weasley, Black, and Prewett had used to get to the school. He wondered where in the hell they were going. It looked like mountains somewhere.

A half hour later, Sirius said something in another language, and the carriage slowed over where looked like a completely empty valley. Then he cast a strange-looking spell, enveloping the carriage in a bright green light, and when Draco could see again, they were landing right in front of a small wooden house. Something growled fiercely in the background, and he swallowed hard.

"Where in the hell are we?" he asked breathlessly.

Sirius ignored him and bellowed, "CHARLIE! WE NEED HELP!"

A second later, a stocky, muscular redhead hurried out the door of the house, his face twisted with surprise and concern. Draco's jaw hit the floor. Arthur Weasley had said that his second eldest son had _died_, but there was no way that the burn-scarred man in front of him could've been anyone else.

"Weasley?" asked Draco unbelievingly. What in the hell was happening to the world? His uncle, the feared Sirius Black, was apparently some kind of messed up rebel. And so were Fred and George. And Harry. Ronald. James Potter. Minerva McGonagall. Now Charlie Weasley, the _bad _Weasley, who was supposed to be dead, was standing in front of him, living and breathing.

When Dumbledore had warned the school about rebel uprisings, Draco had never taken him seriously. He should have. Now it looked like things were going to get real bad, real quick, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

**A/N-**

**Eh. That was short, but pretty actiony, so I hope it wasn't too bad. I'll try to update again ASAP. I'm in kind of a hurry right now, so I'll hold off review responses until next chapter.**

**Hope you liked the chapter.**

**~bballgirl32~**


	19. How I Got to be This Way

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_Yeah I've done some pretty stupid things, _****_but hey _**

**_I'm a little bit harder and _**

**_A whole lot smarter_**

**_That's how I got to be this way. _**

**_How I Got to be This Way, Justin Moore_**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

Hermione was sitting down in the back of her cell when Percy came flying down the stairs once again. There was a tray of food in his hand, and he tore the door open and tossed it inside, then backed up so that he was leaning against the wall across from her.

"This isn't laced with Veritaserum, is it?" she asked cautiously, poking at a harmless looking muffin.

"And if it is?" asked Percy, raising an eyebrow. "Do you even have any secrets left to spill?"

He had a good point, she had to admit. With a cautious look at the pile of delicious-looking food, she picked up the muffin and nibbled at it. It was delicious, and the first thing that she'd eaten in days. She took another huge big, then took a big swig from the big thermos of pumpkin juice he'd brought to her.

"Don't eat too fast," the redhead warned. "I really would not appreciate it if you threw it all up again."

Right. Hermione took one last big bite, then forced herself to slow down. "Thanks for this, by the way. I was starving."

Percy smirked slightly. "That was the point. My father was planning to let you rot away down here. Can't have that now, can we?"

"Not if you don't want to kick the bucket as soon as I do," she replied. A slight silence fell over the two of them, and after a while Hermione just had to ask, "Why are you here? Just to give me food?"

"No," he said. "I have several very… interesting things to tell you. James and Harry Potter have escaped, along with that kitchen slave that James apparently has a history with."

Hermione couldn't help but sigh in relief. She'd been so worried about them, especially when she went spilling all of their secrets. Percy had said his father already knew everything she said, but still. She would have felt terrible if anything happened to them. "Okay. Good. What else?"

The smirk fell from Percy's lips, and his expression became extremely controlled.

"There was a battle at Hogwarts this morning. My father went there with several others in an attempt to settle them down after the… incidents the night before. Before he left, he ordered Ronald to come home, most likely to kill him for treason. Several other students did not accept this, and fighting broke out."

"They're all dead, aren't they?" Hermione squeaked out. Her blood felt like ice. Arthur Weasley could kill a bunch of school kids without batting an eye, and she had no doubt that he wouldn't discriminate. If he had his way, all of them would have been blown to pieces. Including Ron.

"No, they aren't," said Percy gravely. "As you expected, my father would have had no problem in killing them all, if he were not met with… resistance. I assume that you know who Sirius Black is?"

Hermione snorted. _Everyone _knew who Sirius Black was. "The drunken, power-hungry arse who thinks he's the king of the world just because Dumbledore put him in charge of the military."

An amused smile crossed Percy's face, even if it didn't reach his eyes. Actually, now that Hermione got a closer look at him, he looked… sad, almost. That didn't make any sense.

"That drunken, power-hungry arse just saved about a hundred and fifty lives. He

knocked my father out and gave a lot of students the chance to escape. Dumbledore was having a fit, but after… Fabian Prewett killed Lucius Malfoy, I heard that things got wild enough that he was forced to flee for his own safety."

Hermione stared at Percy in shock. Sirius Black, head of the military, womanizer, murderer, gambler… was actually a rebel. He'd faked everything. At first she was almost awed, unbelieving, but the look on Percy's face said that it was obviously true.

Then she realized just exactly what he'd done.

"Wait," she said stiffly. "You're telling me that he blew his cover as a spy in a position that could have won the rebels the war, _now_, of all times. He just ruined everything!"

"Are you so cold," asked Percy, "that a hundred and fifty lives mean nothing to you?"

She opened her mouth to snap at him for even suggesting such a thing, then clamped it shut. She'd just voiced that she rather would have had Sirius keep his cover than save the lives of students her age, people who had stood up for Ron.

Was Percy right? Was she cold for wanting the war to be won at _any _cost? She shook her head. Of course not. Winning the war would save so many more lives than any little skirmish at Hogwarts.

"I'd rather win the war and lose a battle than win a battle and lose a war," Hermione finally said harshly. "Although I don't know why I am talking to you about this, seeing as you would be thrilled if the rebels lost."

Percy snorted, and once again Hermione noticed how little he was into it. It was like someone had died or something. What was wrong with him?

"You don't have to sound so pissed off at me," he retorted. "I'm only the messenger. Once you get out, you can go cuss out Sirius Black if you want to."

Once again, he was right, but Hermione was too worked up to pay any attention to that. Fighting at Hogwarts, Sirius Black being a stupid rebel, and… "Oh, God. What happened to Ron?"

"He ran off with Black," said Percy bitingly. "Although your rebel friends were pretty stupid to leave him at school in the first place. Spies, ghosts, portraits, James Potter should have known better than to leave him there."

Hermione didn't comment because she'd been thinking the same thing. Why in the hell did they leave Ron at the school? Had they really forgotten about him? Expected him to be safe? She assumed it was probably the latter. He hadn't been very involved in anything, and she knew for a fact that the meetings they had were unruly and chaotic. James wasn't the type of person who'd see every little thing that could go wrong, and Snape was the type who would see every possibility but not care either way.

At least Ron was safe now, although she doubted that anyone had any idea where. Oh, well. He was alive, and that was a miracle in of itself. She only hoped that he would stay that way.

"Um. Thanks for telling me all this, and for the food," she said as she polished off the last of her soup. "Is that everything?"

He shook his head.

"No, actually, I came to tell you something else. Please realize that I mean absolutely nothing by this, and that I am only fulfilling my part of the vow. My father is in the process of bringing in prisoners from Hogwarts, several of whom he believes to have important information. Those he needs to interrogate will be kept in here."

"But then how will I escape?" asked Hermione. "If there are more prisoners in here-"

"The wards will be strengthened and there will always be someone standing guard outside," interrupted Percy. He clasped his hands together and raised his head so that he could meet her eyes. She was chilled by how strangely emotionless he looked. There was something about what happened at Hogwarts that he hadn't bothered to tell her. Something that had him looking completely dead.

Part of her wanted to ask him about it, and the other part couldn't bring herself to car, so she eventually settled for saying, "So if there'll be someone standing guard, how am I going to get out?"

"You will be moved," Percy said smoothly. Hermione watched cautiously as he pulled his wand from his robes and held it tightly, as if worried he may need it. "I told my father that I need a personal slave."

"But how's he supposed to believe that? You have an attendant, and-" she started, but Percy held up a hand to stop her.

"My attendant is male," he said slowly. "He would not suffice for what my father believes I will be doing with you."

"Oh, no," said Hermione, shaking her head furiously. "No, no, no. I'm not going to even pretend to be your whore. That's demeaning, and sick, and absolutely terrible. I refuse!"

Percy stood up and stalked over to her, his robes billowing ominously behind him. She hated it when that happened, since it made him look older and more intimidating than he actually was. "It is your only chance, Mudblood," he hissed, "and if you don't take it, I'm going to be the one to pay. I will not touch you. If you want, I will not even speak to you. But this is necessary. Your escape will be all but impossible if you do not take this opportunity."

She knew that, but that didn't mean she liked it. But, once again, he had a point. If he behaved himself, and Hermione was pretty sure he wasn't stupid enough to try anything on her, then it wouldn't be _that _bad. It wasn't like anyone would hear about it, anyway. At least she didn't think so…

"Fine," spat Hermione. "I'll go along with it. Just make sure you don't do anything stupid, otherwise I'll make sure that you pay for it."

He nodded tersely. "Very well, then. I will speak to my father about it when he gets back. Good-bye Hermione."

Then he left her alone once more.

…

Draco was numb. That was the only word for it. He felt absolutely nothing as Charlie Weasley ordered him into some corner and told him to sit. There wasn't even a twinge of disgust after they took the bandage off of Ron Weasley's hand. He didn't argue when Sirius Black dragged him off to a bedroom somewhere and confiscated his wand, then locked him in.

When Draco sat down on the hard, rather small, bed, all that his brain could focus on was blood. The smell was searing his nostrils. He hadn't gotten a chance to clean up, like Sirius had promised, and it was making him sick. Every movement sent little flakes of red falling to the ground, prominent against the light stone floor.

It was like he was rusting, getting ready to fall apart. Just like his father.

White light.

Lucius Malfoy, his face frozen into an expression of horror.

Blue light.

His face scattered around the room in thousands of pieces.

Suddenly, he couldn't get that face out of his head. Ghosts of memories flitted around in his mind. Rare hugs. A kiss on the forehead after coming home with the best scores in his year. The single 'I love you' he had ever heard from his father, said when he was five, when he thought that Draco was asleep.

Draco was on the verge of tearing up, so he knew that he had to stop thinking about his father. Malfoys did not cry. Ever. He took a deep breath, wiped his eyes, and started reciting the twelve uses for Dragon's blood in his head. After that, he switched to the locations of the prisons. Then quidditch players.

He didn't know how long it was before Sirius Black entered the room, looking completely worn down and exhausted. Draco didn't have the energy for a venomous comment. He wanted to sleep, but that was never going to happen. When he closed his eyes, all that he saw was his father.

"You're family, Draco. I had to save you," Sirius said slowly. His eyes looked like black holes. "Please don't make me regret it."

"I won't," he muttered. Not because he didn't want to, but because he had no wand, and all arguments he got into would end with death threats and trouble. No. For now he'd sit and be a good little Draco. Maybe even get them to trust him. Then he'd make himself useful and find some important battle plans, or maybe even the reason for the start of the war in the first place. Once he got the opportunity, he would report to Dumbledore or Grindelwald.

"Of course you won't," said Sirius. Just because he was a traitor didn't mean that he was stupid. Draco knew that he wouldn't be able to so much as breathe funny without a pair of steely gray eyes drilling into his back, not for a long, long time.

"I won't," repeated Draco. His voice was scratchy and dull. He wondered if it was because of apathy or if he needed a drink.

"I'm not here to listen to your lies. I was simply going to show you where to clean up and give you new clothes." He sat a pile of fabric right next to Draco. "Tomorrow we're going to Headquarters. As much as I would like to leave you with Charlie, I don't trust him not to underestimate you. Do you understand?"

He was tempted to ask if he looked stupid, but nodded instead. Sirius smiled condescendingly.

"Good. Now follow me."

Draco groaned and listened. For the moment, there was nothing he could do except for just play along.

…

Fred was ready to tear his hair out in boredom. There was absolutely nothing to do at the Delacour's place. Gabrielle and Fleur weren't allowed to talk to even him, just incase he was George in disguise. Their parents spoke annoyingly broken English, and weren't exactly civil to him. Other than a thoroughly miserable George, that left Lee and Snape. Lee was quiet, but okay, he supposed.

Snape was… unique. The ex-potions professor spent most of his time directing war stuff. He had a little enchanted mirror that he used to keep in contact with James at Headquarters. Hours were spent while Snape directed James in war strategy millions of miles above Fred's head.

Basically, all that Fred understood was that they weren't doing very well. Headquarters consisted of about ten people. There were about six safe houses within five hundred miles. An estimated five hundred free purebloods supported the rebel cause. Snape guessed that some half-bloods from foreign countries could be enticed to join the cause. Then there were the prisoners. Snape said he had an idea on how to get information about the prisons, but wouldn't tell Fred what it was.

Other than those numbers, all that Fred understood was mutterings about Sirius Black being an idiot, Prewett being out of the way, and uncooperative hostages.

Snape snapped at him to quit looking over his shoulder, and Fred went back to George's room to play another round of cards with him and Lee. The air had that 'calm before the storm' feeling, and he could hardly stand to be still so long. It wasn't like there was anything else he could do, though. So he sat and waited, and waited, and waited for something to happen.

Little did he know how little time it would be before he would be dying to sit around and play cards.

**A/N- **

**That was basically just a filler chapter, so not much happened. Oh well. As you can see from the end, there'll be a lot more action soon. I'm glad everyone liked the last chapter. Sorry for the quick author's note, but I'm currently watching the Ravens kill the Steelers and am rather distracted.**

**Now to acknowledge all of my awesome reviewers. Thanks to- Wishing on Fireflies, solid as a cloud, Lexi, Have Socks. Will Travel., can't login, Naie Masen Cullen, Amanda, Frinja, emmettcullenlover45, Misses Prongs, xXGred-ForgeXx, MadCatta, Alice Primrose Granger, NewSlove, Hahukum Konn, obsessivegirl73, and Tape Monkey.**

**I'll try to update ASAP.**

**~bballgirl32~**


	20. Secrets

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**This time, **_

_**Don't need another perfect line,**_

_**Don't care if critics ever jump in line, **_

**_I'm gonna give all my secrets away._**

**_Secrets, OneRepublic_**

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

Percy came back for Hermione that evening. She was sitting in the middle of her cell, her head buried in her hands, when the door creaked open to reveal the tall redhead. He looked tired.

"My father says that I may do with you what I wish as long as you don't escape," said Percy. "Promise me you won't try anything until I think of someway to get you out without making it look like my fault."

Hermione sighed. "Don't worry. I'd just get lost and wind up running into your mother even if I did try." With a short look around the cell that had been her home for the past month or so, she picked herself up off the ground and walked over to the door. Percy opened it and she stepped out.

Walking out of the cell was no where near as liberating as it had been the last time. Probably because Percy had been 'unconscious' then. Too bad that wasn't the case this time around.

"Be silent," ordered Percy as he started over to the door. "My father is not in a very good mood, and making noise won't do you any favors.

She wanted to ask him why he was still talking if they didn't want to attract his father's attention, but settled for nodding and silently trailing him out the door instead. After several minutes of walking, they made it to a bright carpeted hallway. Percy kept urged her forward until they came to a polished mahogany door. He opened it, and Hermione grudgingly stepped into the room.

The first thing that she noticed was how big it was. The bed would hold ten people, an entire corner of the room had been turned into a library, and another corner seemed to have been converted into an office of sorts. And there was still a good amount of space left over.

Even more impressive than the size was the way that everything in the room screamed 'high class'. The carpet was thick and pillowy, all of the bookshelves were decorated with ornate carvings, and his bed was done up in silk and velvet. The smell of leather and parchment even felt rich.

"Wow," Hermione breathed as she ambled over to the library section. The books all appeared to be originals, with old, thick bindings. _Hogwarts, a History _smiled at her from one of the shelves. That had been her favorite book growing up, back when she'd read it and wish for nothing more than to be able to attend the fabled school. Without really thinking about it, she lightly trailed her fingers over the spine of the book, a small smile crossing her face as she did so.

Percy cleared his throat loudly, and Hermione jumped backwards.

"I- I- Sorry. I kind of forgot myself there," she said. He shrugged.

"No worries. I was just going to say that you could read them if you like. I have to go and prepare an attendant's room for you to sleep in and will not be able to return for several hours. Anything I do not want you to touch has wards around it, so don't be surprised if something shocks your hand. Please don't break anything and stay away from the papers on my desk. I'll be back soon."

Then he was gone.

Hermione sighed, grabbed the copy of _Hogwarts, a History, _and plopped down on Percy's bed. Within minutes she was completely absorbed in the book, content for the first time since everything had started.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

…

George was using the wand Lee had stolen from Percy to see how many different things that he could enchant a bowl of spaghetti to do. He probably should have been actually eating the pasta, but he wasn't hungry.

Fred had been spending most of his time watching Snape plan, which George obviously couldn't do, seeing as he was locked up in solitary. Lee had started getting bored and leaving him alone in favor of playing with Gabrielle. Since those two were gone, George spent a lot of his time alone with his rather unpleasant thoughts.

Just as he released the spell that had ordered several noodles to do the salsa, someone knocked loudly on the door.

"Come in," he shouted, figuring it was Fred. There'd be no reason for him to knock, but still. Who else would want to see him?

To George's immense surprise, Severus Snape was standing in front of the door, looking even more grim than usual. His dark eyes appeared to almost be concerned, and there was something about the way he was looking at George that made the redhead feel very, very sick.

"Er, do you need something?" George asked cautiously.

"James has been using various methods to get information from your brother and Regulus Black. It is believed that he has gotten as much use from them as he can, and yet they have revealed nothing that relates directly to releasing your father's prisoners. He did find something else that may help us, however."

George wondered why Snape would bother telling him this, but kept silent while he waited for the older man to explain himself. When Snape spoke again, his voice was positively terrifying. "Your father had been training William to run the family affairs rather than take over the prisons. Your next oldest brother was supposedly murdered before his fifth year, and Percy was considered too weak to handle such a job. That would mean that you and your brother would have been the ones receiving training concerning the particulars of the prisons."

"But we don't remember anything," George reminded him. Snape looked coldly into his eyes.

"Perhaps _you _do not, but unless your brother has lied to us, the old George Weasley still lurks within your subconscious."

"I can't get to him, though," said George. And he didn't _want _to get to him. Old George would be absolutely no help to the cause at all. If anything, he'd probably try to molest Snape. Now that was something he did _not _want to think about.

"Not alone, you cannot, but if Miss Delacour were willing to help you…"

He stared. That was all that George could do. Snape had finally lost it. The man was bonkers, completely and utterly crazy. There was no way in hell that he would ever consent to doing it, no way that Madam Delacour would let him anywhere near Fleur if he did. It was sick, and disgusting, and it wasn't like old George would give any information away anyway, even if he did know something.

"No," George finally said, shaking his head furiously. "No, no, no, no, no."

"I assume that you have heard of Sirius Black," said Snape, which seemed completely off-topic to George.

"Er, well, yes," he said quickly, hoping that Snape was going to forget his completely senseless suggestion. "Not in this world, though."

"He was the Head of Military Affairs," Snape informed him tersely, "in addition to serving as our most valuable spy. I am assuming that your brother has informed you of the recent events at Hogwarts."

"Uh-huh."

"During that battle, Sirius foolishly blew his cover in order to save the lives of no more than three dozen students. Due to this, the Army of the Hallows is in a small state of upheaval. James believes that we shall be able to launch a small strike, targeting their most well-trained forces, with the help of only a small amount of foreign backup."

George nodded again, eagerly. This stuff was good. Much better than the stupid idea Snape had just presented. "Okay, that's perfect. Fred and I will help."

"Yes," smirked Snape. "You will help. We are targeting their forces as nothing more than a distraction. Doing so will get Arthur Weasley away from the prison headquarters. Although it will still be under heavy guard, his absence will give the rebels a small window of opportunity to release the wards surrounding the prisons."

"Oh," said George, deflating. He hadn't thought that Snape had been leading up to _that_.

"Yes, Mister Weasley. You need to tell us the information regarding the prisons soon, or our window of opportunity will close. Because we believe that your… reaction to Fleur is more consistent than your brother's loss of temper, it is vital that you cooperate."

"I don't know…"

Snape's black eyes drilled into his own. "Do you wish to return to your own dimension?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then come with me."

George hesitated. Maybe it was important that they did this soon, but _immediately_? That was just crazy. He needed to talk to Lee, and Fred, and was Fleur even in on it? He had a million questions, but there was something in Snape's face that said no more would be said on the particulars. Probably so Old George didn't get tipped off.

So, going by what he had, George had to make a quick, important decision. It wasn't really even that difficult.

Because he had no choice, he followed Snape.

A few moments later, they arrived in a completely empty room. Snape patted George down and confiscated the wand Lee hadn't been supposed to let him borrow.

"Pease keep Fred away," said George nervously. "The other me gets mad when the other Fred isn't there, so…"

"Your twin has already been locked away. I would not allow him to enter the room because of his negative attitude towards my idea. He believed it dangerous and imprudent," answered Snape. Knowing that Fred still cared about him enough to argue what was going on helped George relax just a little bit. His shoulders loosened a little, and he managed to hold his head slightly higher.

"Okay. So, what do you want me to do now?"

"I will not tell you, in case of the event that it will make your alter-ego suspicious. I take it that you find this acceptable?" George swallowed and nodded, and then the former potions master disappeared.

The door swung open a moment later, but it wasn't Snape. Instead, Fleur Delacour traipsed into the room like she owned it, tall, statuesque, and absolutely mouth-watering. George couldn't keep a lascivious smile from spreading across his face when he saw her.

"How nice of you to join me," he said smoothly. "I take it that you came back for more?" His eyes slowly ran her up and down, taking in every last detail. She was like no woman he had ever seen. Even for a part-Veela, this girl was _extraordinary. _Even her sneer did wonders. George loved it when a girl had some fire.

"Touch me, and I will 'urt you, Mister Weasley," she said sternly. "I 'ave not come for your kisses."

Unable to help himself, George took a step closer, then another. Fleur didn't back up, something that made him want her even more. Most girls were scared of him. He liked that this one had a backbone.

"Then why are you here, Angel?"

She tilted her head up defiantly and thrust something in his direction. A muffin. "'Ere. My behavior before was 'orrible, and I wish to make it up to you."

George snorted. "And you want to do that with a muffin? I'd rather have you, you know," he said sultrily. With an experienced movement, he reached a hand up and trailed it down one of her smooth cheeks, delighting in the way that it made her eyes spark.

"I said zat you are not supposed to touch me!" Fleur snapped waspishly. "'ow about zis? You eat ze muffin, and I will kiss you?"

He looked between her and the muffin. This plan screamed trap, but Merlin, the girl smelled good, she looked perfect, and he had a feeling that if he kissed her, he could get her to do a hell of a lot more, as well.

Then again, that wouldn't work if the muffin was poisoned…

"You take a bite," he said. "So that I can see that it's safe."

The Veela took a dainty little bite, chewed, and swallowed without hesitation. George grinned and swiped it from her. In a single bite, he had it down, and then he moved in her direction, pinning her against the wall.

"A deal is a deal," he smirked wildly, but his words came out unsure, funny. His vision blurred slightly, but he could still vaguely see the part-Veela spit out the bite of muffin she had took. George's hands clenched into fists and he started yelling and cursing, or at least he thought he did, beacause he couldn't really focus on anything.

Fleur whispered something. A freezing charm, he figured, since movement became impossible. He faded to blackness, but was revived an indeterimate amount of time later. George glared when Severus Snape, the filthy half-blood attendant, appeared over him. With murderous rage, he watched on helplessly as Snape muttered incantations over him, then towed him off to sit in an uncomfortable wooden chair. When the greasy old bat was finished, George's face was unfrozen, even though the rest of his body wasn't.

Immediately, a stream of curse words started out of his mouth. Snape let it go on for several moments until he raised his wand and tonelessly said, "One more unwanted word out of you, Mister Weasley, and I will have your head. Is this understood?"

And, because George valued self-preservation above all else, he gulped and nodded.

"Very good. Now, I believe that you may have some valuable information. Don't worry, Mister Weasley. This won't hurt a bit."

And then, before George could do anything, Snape had said, "Legilimens", and he could feel the creepy servant digging through his head. His father had tried to teach him Occlumency, but it had been one of the few things that George could never get. He was completley helpless against Snape's onslaught.

He closed his eyes and fought as hard as he could, but it wasn't enough.

His confusion, anger, _fear _was laid out for the other man to see. There was something so wrong, so confusing about this. What was he doing in this… place, a building he didn't recognize? He didn't even know who the Veela really was, only that he remembered her name from… before. But when was before? Things were fading in and out, not making sense. As Snape sorted through memories of other girls, women, arguments with his father, antics with his brother, George found himself hopelessly confused.

After a string of memories that consisted of a trip to the prison near Liverpool over the summer, everything turned black until a scene from Hogwarts appeared. His head hurt, felt like it was going to burst, but nothing came forth. Everything was completely blocked out, like he'd lost… weeks, maybe months of his life.

George started fidgeting, fighting, panicking. What was Snape doing to him? What was Snape even doing there? How'd he escape, where'd he get that wand from?

It didn't make sense. God, he was lost, so lost…

His memories started flying backwards, back to when his father teaching him and Fred. Private things, stuff about the prisons, that no one else should know.

He grit his teeth and did everything in his power to shut himself down, knowing that those memories could absolutely not be touched, but Snape was relentless. George eventually hung his head, resigned to his fate.

The prisons would be compromised, and there wasn't a thing that he could do about it.

…

The next day brought Draco's last day at Charlie Weasley's cabin. Sirius woke up him insanely early, and the two of them boarded the dragon-pulled carriage and set off before the sun was even up.

The trip itself was surprisingly short, and completely quiet. Neither Draco nor Sirius made any move to talk. Draco didn't know why the black-haired man was silent, but he didn't dare speak in fear that a complaint would come out. Anything less than a hundred percent respectful was off limits for him. To gain the enemy's trust, he had to act like a good, trustworthy Draco, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

After an our or so of complete silence, the dragon huffed loudly and started its decent down to what looked like the middle of a destroyed city. Sure enough, when Draco looked more closely, he saw the ruins of some long-abandoned city beneath him, looking positively useless.

Closer inspection, however, proved that not all of the buildings were completely abandoned. An old, stately mansion that was situated right in the middle of town was still more or less standing, and Sirius dragged him there the second that the dragon touched down.

Within seconds, dozens of animalistic guards, who could only be Durmstrang graduates, surrounded them, wands pointed right at their heads. Sirius announced something in a foreign language, and one of the guards hurried off.

Draco wasn't extremely terrified. If the guards decided to kill him, then that was just fine with him. Sure, maybe Dumbledore would lose a potential resource, but that was no big deal. He had very, very little to live for, and getting killed by idiot guards would just put him out of his misery.

As it was, he wasn't that lucky. A tall, duck-footed man with a hooked nose ungracefully made his way out of the old building and started blabbering with Sirius in the same foreign language. It appeared that they were asking each other questions, until the man finally came over and hugged Sirius like they were old friends.

Then the guy stepped back and pointed at Draco. "Vat is he doing here?" he asked.

"I had to take him," said Sirius. "He's my godson, and he just killed Fabian Prewett. They would have killed him."

"Very vell," the man said. "Ve vill put him vith the hostages."

Sirius looked like he'd just been shocked, and Draco was hoping that it was because that fool of a man suggested he was a hostage. Instead, Sirius asked, "They're holding them here?"

"Yes, ve have Regulus," the man said. "I vill let you see him soon, but first ve have more to do. Come."

Then he started back towards the building, and Sirius and Draco were allowed to follow. The guards all returned to their previous hiding spots which, now that Draco took the time to look, were pretty darn obvious. He couldn't believe that he hadn't seen them before.

"Where are we going?" Draco couldn't help but ask as they moved forward.

"_I'm _going to the control room," he said, rather haughtily. "You will be escorted to the prisons."

"But I haven't done anything!" he protested. "And I killed one of the biggest authority figures that the Hallows have! What have I done to deserve getting shut in the dungeons?"

"It's not what you've done," said Sirius, not looking guilty in the least. "It's what you would do. We can't have you getting anymore information than you already have. Don't worry, it won't be permanent. I'm sure that someone will think of a better option. Just remember, don't try anything stupid, Draco."

"I would never," Draco muttered, just before a guard marched up to lead him off to his cell. The blond glared at the guard as he was dragged off down a dark corridor, anger flashing in his eyes.

When this was all over, he was going to make someone pay.

**A/N- **

**Sorry. I've had this almost finished for about a week, but I had four tests last week, and didn't have any time to really finish it. The next update should be a little sooner, though. Hopefully. Um, someone asked if there'd be any centaurs in the story, and if there are, they won't really have a big part. Other than that, I don't think there were any questions. **

**Thanks for all the awesome reviews, and I'll try really hard to get the next chapter up by next Sunday. **

**~bballgirl~ **


	21. One Day

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_Sometimes in my tears I drown, but I never let it get me down,_**

**_so when negativity surrounds_**

**_I know some day it'll all turn around,_**

**_Because all my life I've been waiting for, I've been praying for,_**

**_for the people to say,_**

**_that we don't wanna fight no more, they're be no more wars,_**

**_and our children will play_**

**_One Day, Matisyahu_**

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

Hermione could not believe her luck. Percy was being kinder to her than she could imagine, and a part of her no longer wanted to leave, even though she realized that her friends were probably worried about her.

The room Percy had prepared for her was warm and cozy, even though it was insanely small. The redhead himself snuck her books and extra food when his father was out on war business. Even when the Warden was home and Hermione had to pretend to be fulfilling her purpose, Percy never did anything to make her uncomfortable.

In the heart of enemy territory, she felt warm and safe. Calm, almost. Yet, the knowledge that a war was flaring up around her was enough to keep her wanting out, to encourage her to constantly ask Percy when he would help her escape.

"Soon," he would always say, and then change the subject. Part of her worried that he wasn't really working on it, but knowing that Percy would die if he didn't help her calmed her nerves. Percy was big enough on self-preservation that she didn't let herself think about it too much.

Despite the knowledge that he had no choice but to help her, Hermione was still more than a little surprised when he came into her room and plopped down next to her on her bed barely a week after she was moved from the dungeons. "You're going to be going to rebel headquarters within a few days," Percy said, speaking so quickly that Hermione couldn't quite comprehend what he was saying. "James Potter just contacted my father and offered to exchange you for Bill. My father wasn't going to accept, but I managed to persuade him to think differently."

The room fell quiet for a few moments, with Hermione staring at Percy in shock. He'd actually done it. He had fulfilled his end of the bargain and helped her escape. In only a few days, she would be reunited with her friends. It was perfect.

Except it wasn't, because she'd been getting so used to living where she was, had been getting so used to the presence of the cynical Weasley, that leaving wouldn't be as easy as it would have been when she was first captured.

"Are you okay, Granger?" asked Percy. Hermione forced a smile. He'd laugh if she told him that she was worried how much harder she'd have it away from his protection.

"Great," she smiled. Then, not really thinking about it, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him an enormous bear hug. When she pulled back, he was smiling slightly too. "Thank you for helping me. I know that you kind of had to, but I really appreciate it."

Percy blushed and ran a hand through his fiery hair. He obviously wasn't used to getting compliments of any kind from girls, and Hermione found that thought oddly endearing. "I didn't do very much," he said dismissively. "Merlin knows you deserved less, but I suppose I came out of the deal pretty well off."

He got up to leave, but hesitated in front of the door. "Don't get yourself killed," he continued softly, his voice genuine. "You still owe me a life debt."

Hermione grinned, seeing in his eyes that the life debt wasn't all he was worried about. "I'll try not to," the bushy-haired girl said gently. " But this is too much like a good-bye. I won't leave for a while yet, right?"

"Four days," said Percy.

"See? So let's just act like things are normal. Can I come into your room to read?"

"I'm leaving soon," he said, his face darkening marginally. "My uncle's funeral is today."

"Uncle?"

"Fabian Prewett," said Percy. His voice was tightening with surprising emotion, and he cleared his throat before continuing, "He was murdered the same time that Sirius Black blew his cover at Hogwarts. My parents and I are Flooing to the service in a few minutes. I just thought that you would like to know the news before I left."

Hermione studied him carefully, taking in his hollow cheeks and the bruise-like circles under his eyes. That was why he'd been so upset before. His uncle had been killed. Without really thinking, she said, "I'm sorry. Really."

"I don't deserve your pity," Percy muttered under his breath. "How many friends and family members of yours are dead because of my kind?"

Then, without saying anything else, the redhead turned out of her room with the strangest expression on his face. It was almost something like regret, but that could not be right. Could it?

Hermione shook the question off. Soon, she would be back with her actual friends, and Percy Weasley's emotions would be the least of her worries. She might as well relax while she still had the chance.

With that thought in mind, Hermione picked up another volume that Percy had given her and started flipping through it, her contemplations dancing between Percy's expression and thoughts of being reunited with her friends again.

…

Fred still wasn't allowed to see George. They said that he wasn't better. As soon as he had woken up, other George had started screaming and cussing at Snape, shouting death threats, even. Fred thought that maybe he could help, but the others worried that it'd only make George worse. So while Fred restlessly paced back and forth in his quarters, simmering in anger that was fully directed at Snape, George was suffering. It was stupid. Fred hadn't wanted to do it at all, but if someone had to do it, he'd wanted it to be him. All of this was his fault, all his fault, and George wound up being the guinea pig anyway. It wasn't fair!

Slamming an angry fist down on a table top, Fred muttered curses under his breath. What kind of idea did Snape have anyway, purposely triggering the reaction? He had to have known that it was dangerous, and rooting through his head, pulling up all those old memories… what if the old memories stuck?

The door to the room creaked open, pulling Fred from his thoughts. Fleur Delacour was in front of him, looking positively terrified.

"Monsieur Snape 'as all of ze information zat he needs," said Fleur in a very soft, unobtrusive voice. "'e wants to attack soon. Ze warden is wanting to get 'is son back, and 'as agreed to exchange your 'ermione for 'im. Snape believes zat 'e will want to do zis 'imself, so when zat is 'appening, our best men will raid ze prisons."

Fred's head jerked up at the mention of Hermione. He hadn't forgotten about her over the last few days, but it would be a lie if he said that she was at the front of his mind. With all of Snape's grand schemes and James's assurances that Hermione would be perfectly safe, he had figured that he had bigger things to worry about. Still, the news that he would soon be getting Hermione back was more than welcome given the circumstances, and a smile crossed his face at the thought.

That smile faded, however, when he thought of the other part of the plan. Raiding the prisons. So many people would die, and what if it didn't work? What if Arthur had been worried enough about him and George being on the other side that he had changed the wards around them? The few people that were actually in the resistance would probably lose their lives, causing everything to completley fall apart. If this failed, there was absolutely no chance that him and George would ever get back home.

Knowing that protesting would do no good, however, Fred let out a low sigh.

"When?"

"Four days," said Fleur. "Zat is when James will be going for 'ermione."

Fred swallowed and nodded. Four days. He'd have four days of normalcy, and then everything would go up in flames. Thinking of George, the redhead sighed.

_Everything will go up in flames if it hasn't already, _he corrected mentally.

"Are you okay?" Fleur asked hesitantly. Fred shrugged.

"Not really. It's not your problem, though. I think that I need to go find Lee."

Then he left the room sadly, his usually confident gait slow and tired, as though he were an old man. The war hadn't even officially started yet, and Fred already felt like he couldn't stand it anymore. He closed his eyes for a moment, wanting nothing more than to just go home. Back to where Dumbledore was still smiling and twinkle-eyed, where Grindelwald was locked up, and Muggleborns and half-breeds didn't have to hide.

Why in the hell did he ever make that stupid potion in the first place? He had known it was stupid. Lacewing flies and powdered unicorn horn. Why had he thought it safe to test? His mother had been right when she had scolded him for mixing those ingrediant. The combination was impossible to control, terrible, stupid, and he'd done it anyway.

It had been his idea to go into Dumbledore's house, too. George had wanted to carve their initials into a tree, to do something quick and easy, but of course that wasn't good enough for him. He had to go and blow up half a bloody house.

White hot guilt bubbled up in Fred's stomach, mingling with the fear that was already there. The place had been tolerable before, with George, but now he was gone and no one seemed to want to tell Fred if he was ever coming back.

"Hey, Fred, did you hear the news?" Lee asked as he poked his head out of a door, almost ramming into Fred. "This thing is finally going to get started, and we'll get Hermione back at the same time. Something is really happening."

"Yeah," said Fred, forcing a smile. "I suppose it is."

Then Lee pulled him into his room and started talking about strategy, and Fred forced himself to sit still and listen, like he wasn't terrified as hell that he had lost his other half forever.

…

Draco did not take well to prison life. He did not like the musty scent, nor the dirt that seemed to be imbedded in every cold stone surface. He did not like bars that practically glowed with the wards infused into them, and he particularly did not like being completely, one-hundred percent powerless.

Three times a day, a big, stupid Durmstrang guard would rumble down into the dungeons and toss Draco a plate of questionable food. The man in the cell adjacent to him received about half of the portion size that Draco did, but the blond refused to give Bill Weasley any extra, despite half-hearted cursing and threats. The man was a hostage. He did not need food. Besides, judging by the way that Bill's body seemed to be caving in on itself, he had probably been tortured too thoroughly to keep very much down anyway.

Regulus Black had gotten more food than either of them, probably because his brother was up high in the hierarchy of filthy traitors and rebel scum. Then, of course, the tall duck-footed man had waddled down into the dungeons the evening that Draco had arrived and toted Regulus off.

"That's Viktor Krum," Bill had told Draco, his face twisted into an expression of distaste. "A brute from Bulgaria. Damn good wizard, too, just stupid as hell. Apparently his grandfather had gone to school with Grindelwald, back before Durmstrang became the shit hole it is today, and Krum grew up with stories about how terrible he was. Now the piece of foreign filth has spent the last four years making hell for my father, stealing soldiers from Durmstrang left and right."

Draco had said nothing. He needed to act like he didn't care, like he didn't know nor like Bill, if he was going to be let out. Conversing with 'the enemy' would not help his chances at leaving the dungeons early. He kept up his silence, too. Not once did he speak to Bill or any of the Durmstrang soldiers that gave him his food.

Then, after Draco was trapped in the dungeons for at least two days, maybe three, Sirius Black appeared in front of his cell.

"I'm filthy," complained Draco, his voice raspy from not speaking in so long. "You're my bloody godfather. The least you could do is get me a shower."

Bill snorted. The Weasley heir was caked with blood and grime, eyes blood-shot and slightly wild. Draco had no right to be whining considering his fellow prisoner's state, but Draco had never been one for fighting to be braver or stronger than others. Besides, Bill had actually done something wrong, whereas Draco was locked away for absolutely no reason.

"I saved your life, Draco," Sirius retorted, rather childishly. "The least you could do is act a little grateful."

Draco was sorely tempted to stick his tongue out, but just managed to refrain from doing so. "Saved my life? I'll die in this hellhole anyway," Draco said. "Please. I have done nothing wrong, and I never will do anything wrong. Just let me out."

Sirius smirked. "Maybe we will sometime soon. I suppose I'll just have to see."

"Sirius!"

"I served as a spy for over ten years, Draco. I know deception when I see it, and I have no doubts that you are lying. If I were to let you out, I could compromise the entire war effort. Don't worry, I'll be able to tell when you're being honest with me."

Then he sent one more wink in the direction of his godson and walked away, leaving a steaming Draco behind.

**A/N- **

**I apologize for how short and uneventful that was, but the whole huge battle/exchanging of the hostages thing comes up next, and that needs to have its own chapter. I will try to update ASAP, but I can't make any promises as to how soon that'll be, especially since the next chapter is going to be longer. **

**Someone mentioned something about Fabian killing Lucius because he was a traitor, but that was just an accident. There was too much going on during the battle and people were randomly firing everywhere, so it was just a case of a dark wizard being too eager to kill. **

**Thanks to everyone for reviewing. Please keep it up. **

**~bballgirl32~**


	22. The Middle

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

**_Take each day and make it last_**  
><strong><em>Cause you turn around and the future is the past<em>**  
><strong><em>Here and now is all we have<em>**  
><strong><em>The beginning and the end mean so little<em>**  
><strong><em>What matters most is what's in the middle<em>**

**_The Middle, Lauren Alaina_**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

George Weasley was exhausted and confused. Nothing made sense, he was locked up in some room that he'd never seen before, and every once in a while, Snape would come prancing in and start digging around in his head more and more. He wasn't even looking for information on the prisons anymore, George could see that. He was looking for things that weren't there, searching for something below the surface when there was absolutely nothing there.

"I want my brother," George demanded tiredly when the door swung open for the fifth time in the past three days. Like always, it was Snape. The greasy-haired mudblood managed to make himself look more and more concerned each time he entered the room, although George had no idea what he would possibly be concerned about.

"Your brother isn't here, Mister Weasley," said Snape tiredly, "and we are not interested in retrieving him from the place where he currently rests."

"What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" snapped George. His voice wasn't infused with as much hate as usual. He was too bored to hate. Too tired. Too… everything. His head hadn't quit pounding for the last few days, and strange bouts of dizziness would take him over every couple of hours, even though he'd been able to control them pretty well. Something told him that he shouldn't let the dizzy spells take him over, like something bad would happen if he did.

"That is none of your concern," replied Snape. Then, looking as detached as only a man with the visible emotional range of a rock could, he asked, "Have there been any changes lately?"

"Yes," snapped George. "There have been. My patience is starting to wear thin, and I want to know what you've done with my family."

His head was starting to spin, just like it always did right before he started feeling sick and light-headed. George ran a hand through his vibrant hair. _Now is not the time. _

"Your brothers are scattered in various places, none of them in the immediate vicinity. Your parents are safe in their manor," Snape assured him. "Now, if you would please relax, I need to…"

The attendant's words started to become more and more garbled as he spoke, as George's dizziness got worse and his attention faded. Like before, George fought for control, to keep a grip on himself before his thoughts slipped away, but this time he couldn't quite manage it.

Snape's droning voice stopped and the bat-like figure grew closer George, and all that the redhead could remember after that was worried words and a scream that sounded suspiciously like his own. Then everything faded to blackness.

He regained his vision in what felt like only a few minutes. Almost immediately, he was mobbed by Fred.

"Are you in there, Georgie? Snape said that he thinks you should be back, that he managed to take a look at your dreams, and they were the good George's dreams. Well, you haven't thrown me off of you yet, so I hope that they aren't too bad. Merlin, do you have any idea how worried I was about you? Snape did his stupid little thing, and then you didn't come back, and you didn't come back. Then you pass out for five hours, and now… Merlin, you look confused. What's wrong? Are you okay? Is there anything that I can get you?"

George took a shaky breath and rubbed his aching temples. It felt like someone had hit him over the head with a mace, and his thoughts were all scrambled up into one big jumble. All of the memories that Snape must have turned up, images from a past that wasn't his, feelings that weren't his, were churning around in his head, mixing with the memories of the other world. It was hard to tell which were his and which belonged to the other George. It was hard to tell if he planted dungbombs under Aunt Muriel's chair, or if he'd murdered a slave for incompetence. If he'd kissed Katie Bell after Gryffindor won the quidditch cup in his fifth year, or if he'd met Bellatrix Potter in the dungeons and…

"Oh, God. Fred, I'm going to be sick," George cried, shaking his head furiously, trying and failing to push all of the other George's memories far, far away. Now that Snape had gone and brought them to the front of his mind, George wasn't going to forget them very easily.

"Do you need potions, help, what? I'll do anything, I swear," Fred said, but George was tired and his eyes were already starting to drift shut.

"I just need a nap," George said groggily. "Er, and… please don't leave, Fred."

"I'll stay as long as you stay," his twin said softly, and then George fell back into unconsciousness.

…

Percy himself woke Hermione up the morning that the hostages were supposed to be exchanged. It was so early that the sun hadn't yet risen, and the appearance of the dark-robed redhead frightened her for a moment before she realized who it was.

"Percy," Hermione said softly. If all went well, it would be the last time that she would ever see him… At least in this life. Hermione didn't know who Percy was in the other world, but she assumed that he was good, at least judging by Fred's descriptions of his family. They wouldn't know each other, though. He wouldn't have helped her like he had, and things would just be… different. The thought upset her more than it should have.

"You need to get ready, Hermione," Percy said back, his voice just as soft. His face was completely shut off of all emotion. "My father is coming for you soon. I won't be able to come with. I'm the only 'good' son he has left, and he won't let me leave the manor."

Meaning that this was good-bye. Percy would leave her room, and she would never see him again. When they were trying to kill each other, when they hated each other, this would have been welcome, but over the past few weeks… something had changed. Something big.

"Right. Get ready," Hermione muttered. She didn't know what else to say. Percy hesitated, opened his mouth to say something, then spun on his heel and started out the door. Hermione coughed slightly, and Percy hesitated just long enough to give her the courage to say, "I think I might actually miss you."

Percy's pause turned into a complete stop, and the redhead turned back around so that he was facing Hermione. His usually hard brown eyes had softened until they resembled Fred's. Good and pure. Except Fred's eyes had never sent butterflies exploding into Hermione's stomach, had never made her blush like a schoolgirl or feel like she could rule the world.

"For a m-m… I- you aren't so bad. For a Muggleborn or anyone else. I mean… I hope that you don't die."

Even though Hermione was tired and sleepy, and much, much more sad than she should have been in the circumstances, she was still observant enough to see the sadness written all over his face. It probably mirrored her own.

"I hope you don't die, too," Hermione said, forcing a smile. After a slight pause, she realized that he wasn't going to go anywhere, and threw her legs over the edge of her bed, getting slowly to her feet. "And… I hope that we can see each other again."

Percy stepped closer to her, so that Hermione could feel his warm breath on her face. "I tried to kill you," he said.

"Your family disgusts me," retorted Hermione, her voice just a little dazed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered trying to seduce him several weeks ago, attempting to get him to leave her alone so she could steal his mother's bell. Somewhere she remembered that she had thought that his reaction to her closeness was amusing.

Now she realized that she was reacting in the same way to him.

"Mudblood," breathed Percy. Hermione didn't even flinch.

"Bigot," she tossed back, her head tilting towards his without her consent. Percy leaned down awkwardly to compensate for his height, his lips getting closer and closer. Hermione didn't know what she was doing. She should have hated him, she should have been disgusted, but all that she could think about was how kind he'd been to her recently, and how close he was at that moment.

She leaned up to close the distance between them completely… then Arthur Weasley's loud bellow of, "PERCY! I must speak to you this instant!" caused them to jump apart so fast that Hermione almost fell over.

Percy cursed loudly and shouted, "COMING!" back at his father. Hermione turned away and began to calm herself down, already starting to tell herself that what she thought was going to happen wasn't actually going to happen, when Percy hastily stepped forward.

"I have to go now, but I am going to miss you, and…" Percy shook his head, clearly at a loss for words. After a moment of indecision, he put his fingers under Hermione's chin and gently guided her face upwards, forcing her to look at him. "Just don't think that this means we're on the same side." Then Percy Weasley bent his head and brushed his lips against hers for only a second before he backed up and quickly ran out the door.

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and plopped down on her bed. She couldn't believe that he'd just, that she'd… The frizzy-haired witch shook her head to clear it. Today was huge for the war effort, and she couldn't sit around and think about boys. With a determined look on her face, she got to her feet and took several minutes to make herself as presentable as she could, just before Percy's attendant knocked on her door.

"Granger, the Master wants you," Finnegan called, poking his head into the room. Hermione took a deep breath and nodded, giving the attendant her hand.

"Alright. Take me to him."

He turned and apparated, pulling Hermione after him.

They landed in front of a cowed-looking Percy and an exceedingly intimidating Arthur Weasley. This was as close as Hermione had ever been to the Weasley patriarch, within five feet of him, and she could see every detail of his scarred, but even-featured face very clearly. She could see the slight insanity in the single eye that he had, and the fury that radiated from every inch of his countenance.

Within only a few minutes, Percy and his kiss had suddenly become the very last thing on Hermione's mind.

"Mudblood," spat Weasley coldly. "I believe that you understand what is to take place."

Hermione nodded and swallowed nervously. She understood perfectly.

"Good," said the Warden. "Now, let me make myself clear. Any funny business on your part will result in your painful and immediate death. If your friends try anything other than what they have prepared me for, they, too, will pay. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

The Warden smiled, and then, without warning, laid a freezing cold hand on Hermione's shoulder and apparated them away. The last thing she was were Percy's sorrowful brown eyes.

They reappeared in what looked to be an empty field. James Potter and a tall, hook-nosed man that she did not recognize were waiting with Bill Weasley propped up in between them. Hermione swallowed nervously.

"Warden Weasley," James said, bowing his head slightly. The man beside him inclined his head with mocking reference, but did not speak. "I see that you have decided to keep up your half of the deal."

The Warden hardly even noticed. His eyes were trained on the man next to James Potter the same way that an owl's would focus on a mouse. Hermione didn't miss the way that the redheaded man's hand was on his wand, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he weighed whether or not he should attack the man across from him. Whoever it was clearly didn't have a good reputation, not by the standards of the Order of the Hallows, anyway.

"Ve have not come to fight, have ve, Veasley?" the man asked in a deep, heavily accented baritone. Suddenly his heavy features and thick build made sense. He was a Durmstrang graduate, or at least from that area. Taking in his well-made clothes and confident, almost regal posture, she couldn't believe that he was one of the brainless drones that were rumored to attend the school.

"What we have come to do has not yet been decided," the Warden replied coldly. Bill's head ducked a little, and Hermione knew that the oldest Weasley brother was seeing exactly what she was- Arthur Weasley mechanically weighing the benefits between retrieving his son and killing off his enemy, as if either were a viable option.

"Is this really necessary?" asked James. "Why fight when we have already made terms that work for all of us? You'll have plenty of chances at Viktor later. If you try to take him out now, it will cost you your son in the process."

"Perhaps," said Weasley, "but I could also kill Krum and your little Mudblood pet, and get more out of it than you would. My _son _deserves some sort of punishment, anyway, for allowing himself to get captured."

Bill's head ducked even further.

"Do not be being like this," Viktor said. "Ve can settle our dispute later. For now, ve can just make the exchange and leave."

_If they knew that the Warden hates this Viktor man so much, why did James bring him? And why in the hell would Viktor be trying to reason with Arthur Weasley? It's like he's inviting an argument. _

"With the way that things are going, I can't be sure that you won't be dead before the next time that I get a chance at you, Krum."

"Vell, I am intending to be living even after you are long gone, Veasley."

_More arguing. Merlin, why can't they just try to curse each other and get this whole thing over with? _

"I am sorry to inform you that-" Weasley started, then stopped. His eyes widened, and he let out a nice, long stream of curse words before turning in what was obviously an intention to apparate, not even thinking to keep Hermione in his grip.

Hermione knew of only one thing that would make him act like that.

_The prisons. _

"Stupefy!" cried James, his curse firing in the general direction of Arthur Weasley. Hermione wasn't sure if it hit or not because the Warden disappeared before the light was gone, but she prayed to Merlin that it had. If she was right and some wards around the prisons had just gone down, well, it was pretty imperative that he was out of commision for a while, otherwise whatever plan that the rebels came up with was going to go down the drain.

"Come on, Hermione," James said, sounding worried. It sounded like he didn't think they'd kept Arthur distracted for long enough. "Let's get you back to Headquarters. Lee and the twins aren't there, but you can see Harry again. Ron will be coming as soon as he's up to it, too."

Hermione had a million questions, especially concerning why Ron wouldn't be 'up to' traveling to Headquarters, but she couldn't manage to frame any of them. All that she could think about was that she was safe, and secure, and she'd be getting her friends back, no matter what happened.

"Okay," she sighed. "Thank you." Then, feeling the need to be polite, she turned to Viktor and shot him a weary smile. "And thank you, too."

"It vas nothing, Miss Hermy-own-ninny."

She wasn't sure whether she was annoyed or endeared by the way that he slaughtered her name, but gave him a polite smile anyways. James took her arm, and, for the third time that day, she was apparated off to somewhere else. This time, however, she was looking forward to wherever they took her. It felt like she was going home.

**A/N- **

**Yes, yes, I realize that Hermione/Percy is very uncommon and probably not too well liked, but Percy never gets any love, and since he and Hermione are both intelligent and ambitious, I've always thought that they kind of worked together. If you don't like it, I'd just encourage you to ignore it. It won't play a big part in the story. Also to answer xXGred-ForgeXx's question, Fred was just worrying that George wasn't going to come back, he didn't actually **_**know**_** that he wasn't. I kind of phrased his thoughts awkwardly there. **

**Now, for a big surprise. I'm within twenty reviews of 300, so I've decided to give you a little bit of incentive to help me get there. I've selected three random numbers between 280 and 300. Whichever reviewers land on those numbers can give me conditions for writing a one-shot of their choosing (any genre, pairings, specific scenes, etc). I'll just warn you that I will probably murder most cannon or slash pairings, but I'll try if you want me to. Winners will be emailed (if they have an account), or otherwise notified in the author's note when I post the next chapter. If I complete the next chapter before all of the numbers are reached, the context will continue until someone lands on the last number. **

**bballgirl32 out, witches.**


	23. Stand

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**Cause when push comes to shove**_  
><em><strong>You taste what you're made of<strong>_  
><em><strong>You might bend til you break<strong>_  
><em><strong>Cause it's all you can take<strong>_

_**On your knees you look up**_  
><em><strong>Decide you've had enough<strong>_  
><em><strong>You get mad, you get strong<strong>_  
><em><strong>Wipe your hands, shake it off<strong>_  
><em><strong>Then you stand, then you stand<strong>_

**_Stand, Rascal Flatts _**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**NOTICE: IF YOU REVIEWED LAST CHAPTER, READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE. CONTEST WINNERS ARE LISTED THERE.**

Fred watched and waited incessantly, hoping and praying that some kind of news of the prison raids would reach him. Snape had disappeared off into some obscure room with his enchanted mirror hours ago, and hadn't emerged since. Fred was desperate to burst through the door and bombard him with questions, but George and Lee both informed him that the stupidity of that idea rivaled his time-travel potion.

So he sat, and waited, and did everything he could to try to keep his mind off of the fact that a battle, one that they couldn't participate in, was going on at that very moment. Not just any battle either, but one that could determine the outcome of the entire war.

"Do you think they got Hermione to safety, at least?" asked Lee. "They'd have to know that by now, right?"

"I dunno," said Fred, keeping his eyes fixed on his hands. He didn't want to see the anxiety written all over the others' faces. "With the Warden in charge of the exchange, I'd imagine that there would be a million things that could go wrong."

"But that's unlikely, right?" asked Lee, trying to cheer himself as much as Fred and George. "I mean, these guys have to have planned this thing out to the millisecond, haven't they? And if Snape is doing the planning, then you know it's got to be good."

George shrugged. "I don't see how Snape could have come up with a good plan, let-alone a foolproof one. I can remember all the wards they've got around the prison, and the Warden is tied to every one of them. If they tried to exchange Hermione even a second too early, the wards would have been triggered, our dad would have apparated away, and everything would be in shambles."

"Oh, cheer up, Georgie," Fred said quickly. He was still angry at Snape for drugging George and rooting through his memories, especially now that it became apparent that everything the greasy old bat dragged up wasn't going away. George had told Fred some things, especially the stuff that had to do with the prisons, but Fred knew that his twin would refuse to mention the worse parts of his newly gained memories in an attempt to keep some of the pressure off of him. Fred also knew that nothing would change George's way of thinking, mainly because Fred would have done the same thing if their places had been switched. "We've got the element of surprise on our side."

"I don't know…" George muttered. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the door to their bedroom burst open before he had the chance. A very tired, very weary looking Snape stood before them, his dark eyes not betraying any emotion.

"What happened?" Lee asked, jumping up to stand right in front of Snape, bouncing up and down on his heels in a child-like manner. Fred and George were right behind him, crowding around the former-slave with the same anxious, but eager, expressions.

"Your friend is safe," Snape said first, keeping his voice careful. All three boys let out relieved breaths. At least Hermione was out of danger. That was one less thing to worry about. "As for the main mission, I believe that a full description of the battle is out of my power. From what I have gathered, however, Potter somehow managed to hit the Warden with a stunning spell before he disapparated to attend to his activated wards. This allowed the rebels time to break the security around nineteen of his twenty-two prisons, and lead approximately seventy-five percent of his total prisoners to safety. The others, as you can assume, have been executed, but we have gained a great deal of allies. For all intents and purposes, I would consider this our first victory."

Without even thinking about it, Fred leapt forward and wrapped Snape up in a famous Weasley hug. Without giving the other man time to pull him away, he turned to Lee and performed an elaborate routine of hand-slaps, before spinning to face his brother, who had an enormous smile stretched across his face, brown eyes really sparkling for the first time since they had gotten into this mess. Fred felt himself smile just as big.

They had won one battle, and that gave him hope for the many others that surely lied ahead. This newfound optimism made him giddy with possibilities. For the first time in a long time, it felt like maybe they would have a chance of getting back home, and that maybe they might even manage to scrounge up a few pieces of the laughing, carefree Fred and George to haul back with them.

Still smiling, Fred glanced at Snape, who was almost-kinda-grinning, and asked, "Now, what's next?"

"Now," said Snape slowly, "we use this distraction to move you to Headquarters. The older Delacour girl wishes to come with and aid the cause, but her family is to remain here, with me."

After what happened to George, Fred couldn't bring himself to complain about that at all, despite Snape's part in the recent victory.

"So we'll get to see Hermione?" Lee asked, his voice tainted with an enthusiasm that Fred had trouble placing. Did Lee and Hermione really grow that close when they were slaves together?

Looking at Lee's excited face, Fred realized that yes, they probably had. After all, they hadn't had much other company.

"Yes, you will get to see the girl," Snape said dismissively. "Now, I trust that you will all be ready to leave in exactly two hours. Discuss your joy at our victory, then get moving. This is war. There is no time for complacency."

Then he turned and left in a flurry of black robes, and the group of boys all began collecting whatever meager possessions that they had, most of those given to them by Snape or the Delacours.

In seemingly no time at all, all three met at the front door with their bags packed. George resignedly accepted a blindfold and handcuffs to keep him from freaking out on Fleur, which Fred secretly thought was a good idea, and Fleur hesitantly came out to join them.

Tears stained her cheeks, and the way that she hugged herself made her look thin and delicate for the first time in Fred's memory. He could hardly blame her. She was leaving her family and her home to go to a place that she knew nothing of, to participate in a deadly, dangerous war. It was a testament to her bravery that she was even willing to try to fight. Fred found himself wanting to wrap his arms around her, then remembered that she was a part-Veela and subtly scooted away.

"So, do you know how we're getting to where we need to go?" Lee asked Fleur, too preoccupied to really be affected by her charms. "Snape disappeared after he told us we were leaving, and none of us were really eager to go looking for him."

The part-Veela cracked a weak smile. Apparently Lee still held a little of his old personality, at least where it came to cheering people up. "A ship," she said, her accented voice so choked that Fred could hardly understand her. "From ze foreign school…"

"Durmstrang?" he suggested, thinking back to the Tri-Wizard tournament. She nodded.

"Yes, zat is it. Our general… a Viktor Krum, 'as many connections from z'ere. I believe 'e even stole ze ship we are to be traveling on," she elaborated, her eyes looking at Lee with gratitude, probably for granting her a distraction. Fred's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Krum, but refrained from asking questions. The bloke had went out of his way to ask Hermione to the ball in the other dimension, despite going to a Muggleborn-hating school, so there had to be a good amount of good in him.

Then again, he'd figured the same about his parents, his entire family, and very few of them were good at all.

Someone tapped a pattern on the door, jolting Fred from his thoughts. Even if he didn't understand it, Fleur seemed to, because her face turned into an impassive mask, and she stepped forward to open the door.

A vaguely recognizable man stood in front of them, and Fred stared, thinking that he should know the person in the doorway. Neat black hair, aristocratic features, dark gray eyes… the face was impossibly familiar, but he just couldn't place it. It wasn't until George muttered, "Sirius", that Fred realized he was looking at what Harry's godfather would have been without all those years in Azkaban.

Tall, confident, clean-shaven, and with none of the gauntness that the other Sirius had, Fred didn't blame himself for not placing the man sooner. It really wasn't the old Sirius Black that stood in front of him, but rather a well-known rebel leader, previously one of the highest ranking officials in the wizarding world.

"Sirius," breathed Fred, repeating his brother's word without meaning to do so. Of course, the man gave them none of them same recognition. In fact, his eyes flashed with impatience, and he hurriedly ushered the group out the door without looking directly at either twin.

Right in front of them was the same enormous boat that had housed the entire Durmstrang school. Wordlessly, Sirius gestured them inside, momentarily ignoring George's question of, "How in the bloody hell are we supposed to be covert in this thing?"

Once everyone was inside the boat, Sirius ducked off into some other room, leaving them all alone. No one spoke. It didn't feel safe to, not yet. After being stuffed inside a safe house for so long, Fred felt very, very exposed.

Then the boat was raising off the ground, and Sirius popped back into the room, smiling just a little. "Good. We're on our way. As for your question… Fred?" George shook his head. "Oh, no. George. Right, the blindfold. Snape mentioned your weakness for Miss Delacour… oh, don't give me that look, Fred, I'm only being blunt. Now, as I was saying, as for your question, this thing is laced with so many anti-detection spells that I'd have to run straight into Weasley Manor for your father to find me. Don't worry about a thing."

"Er, if this is so safe, why didn't we get taken to Headquarters earlier?" asked Fred.

"Didn't Snape tell you? Arthur has a pretty damn good idea of where Headquarters is, and has patrols surrounding the entire area constantly. Now, though, he's got all his guys rounding up the prisoners that we couldn't manage to transport to safety. His patrols have slackened enough for us to get through without any difficulty. Actually, if I were you, I'd take a nap now, before we get there."

"Why?" asked George. "What's going to go one when we get there?"

"It'll just be general chaos. You guys are pretty big, pushing us to get the war started like you did. I still think it was too early, and that damn battle at Hogwarts made me lose my cover, but most of us thought that we were diddling around too much. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them threw themselves at your feet."

Fred fidgeted, uncomfortable with the idea, despite his love of the spotlight. "Um. Alright, then. Anything else?"

"A good number of escaped prisoners are there, too. We scattered most of them to various safe houses, but the ones in high security, which is the prison directly adjacent to the manor, are all at Headquarters. If they did enough against the Warden to warrant getting stuck in that hell hole, they're too important to keep lodged in a safe-house. The only problem with that arrangement is all the kids running around. All of the prisoners captured after the Battle of Hogwarts were shoved in high security, waiting to be transported. We still aren't sure what to do with them, especially the ones whose parents don't support our cause."

"That doesn't sound like anything that we should be worried about," said Fred, even though he had to admit that a nap definitely wouldn't be uncalled for before all the chaos started.

"At least they're on our side," added George.

"I'm not sure that we want some of those little shits on our side, to be perfectly honest. I will admit, a good deal of them are pretty damn amusing though," Sirius said, his gray eyes shining with mirth. "Have you ever listened to that Lovegood girl talk? Pure comedy. Longbottom's pretty impressive, though. Not the most talented wizard, but the guy is a leader. I'm tempted to actually allow him into our military, seeing as, sadly, we don't have much better."

Fred couldn't help but smile at the mention of familiar names, and he couldn't help but think that this had been the best day since he and George had messed everything up. A battle had been won, and now he was going to go and see Hermione and Harry, and get to really help out with the war for the first time.

"Gre-" he started, but was cut off by a yawn. He blinked a few times and shook his head. "Er, I guess that's a sign I should go get some sleep."

"I agree. I'm almost dead on my feet," George confessed. Lee and Fleur both nodded in agreement, as all of them had been too worried to sleep at all the night before.

"Well, go pick your rooms, then," said Sirius, gesturing to a single door across from them. "It'll be a while before we're even close.

Yawning one more time, Fred headed off to find his room and get some much needed sleep, even as his thoughts buzzed with thoughts of war, some of them not completely unpleasant.

…

Hermione was sitting in a mostly empty room, a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders, while a tall, sharp-faced woman checked her over. She recognized the woman as one of the professors at Hogwarts, the one who had assigned the ridiculous assignment that ended with her having twenty different colors of hair.

Even then, Hermione had respected her for her warning of punishment concerning mutilating the slaves in any way, but knowing that she was a rebel increased that respect even more.

"You don't look too bad," the woman said in a light Scottish accent. "I'll admit… I was expecting worse."

Swallowing, Hermione murmured, "I had someone to protect me." She closed her eyes tightly, trying her best not to think about Percy. She _shouldn't _be worrying about him, not at all. Percy was the enemy. For Merlin's sake, he hadn't even considered changing sides. He was too weak for that, that was obvious. The way he'd obeyed his father without delay, his bumbling embarrassment the first time she ran into him, and the miserable way he conducted himself after his uncle had been killed, all showed a decided lack of courage.

Percy Weasley was everything Hermione should have detested. He was a weak, pompous, narrow-minded, simpering fool who fell over himself to serve his father. Even his intelligence, his one redeeming quality, wasn't too high when it came to common sense.

And yet… it made Hermione feel sick to think ill of him. He'd helped her, had respected her, had looked past all of his views for _her_. Hermione couldn't really blame him for being awkward either. It wasn't his fault that he had to try so hard at everything.

Bill was unbelievably handsome, even she couldn't deny that. Charlie had become a rebel, which although frowned upon, generated more than enough notice. Fred and George, the original Fred and George, had both been his father's prized sons, and even Ronald, other than his friendship with Harry and a few minor run-ins, was popular and, Hermione grudgingly admitted, good-looking.

That left Percy with nothing, nothing that his father saw any value in, anyway. He was smart, but not cunning, not athletic, or good-looking, or even ruthless. Yet, Hermione couldn't get him out of her head. She kept looking from side to side, sure that she caught a glimpse red hair, big brown eyes peered back at her every time she closed her own, and his kiss still lingered on her lips.

_I'm going crazy, _Hermione thought, tearing her eyes open and forcing herself to focus. The woman was trying to make small talk, and Hermione wasn't being very polite. It was stupid, to be so focused on a guy, on the _enemy¸_ in the middle of a bloody war, but she couldn't help it.

_I'll be better when the action starts, _Hermione told herself. _As soon as I have something real to do with my thoughts, Percy will go away. _

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione jumped, then realized that the woman had been asking her something. "Huh?"

"I asked you what they did to you?"

"Nothing," said Hermione.

"Nothing?" asked the woman, her voice laced with disbelief.

"I, er-" she started, then hesitated. She didn't know if she should say anything about Percy, pretty sure that he wouldn't want her to. After thinking about it for a moment, though, she decided that it was safest to mention at least part of what he had done for her. That way, if one of the rebels happened to run into him during a battle, they might be lenient. "Percy… the only son that the Warden had left, he… he helped me."

"In what way?" the woman questioned, still looking skeptical, and more than a little surprised.

"Um, he'd bring me extra food, and lie to his father about torturing me, so that the Warden wouldn't find it necessary to do so himself. I got a bunch of news from him, and later on, he told his father that I was his… _attendant_, so that I could leave the dungeons-"

"Did he make you do anything?"

Hermione blushed all the way to the roots of her hair, her skin turning as red as a Weasley's hair. "N-no. He didn't. He never even touched me," she said. It wasn't quite true, but it covered what the woman was asking. "And, uh, when James requested to exchange me for Bill, Percy convinced his father to do it."

The woman shook her head, but it didn't look like she thought Hermione was lying.

"So he has switched alliances?"

"I don't know," Hermione lied, really wishing that she could say that he had. "But I wouldn't count on it."

"Then why would he have-"

The door burst open at that moment, and a red-faced Viktor Krum entered the room. He looked terrible, his rather large nose clearly broken, dark-circles ringing his eyes, and gashes scattered across his face. One arm was held to his chest in a sling, but he was smiling like it was going out of fashion.

"Ve have von!" he declared. "All but two of the prisons are now being ours, and, I am thinking ve have the people to be making a big army. Not like the Veasley's, but still good."

Hermione and the woman exchanged a glance, both of their shoulders sagging in relief. Hermione hadn't known any of the people who had gone on the mission, but she knew as well as anyone how important this was for what the twins were trying to do. It was a big first step, and even though there was a lot of war left, it felt like everyone was finally on even ground.

"That is wonderful," the woman said. She stepped back and looked at Hermione. "I am finished. You have clearly been treated better than we feared, and I have no objections if you wish to find your friend and celebrate."

"Harry!" Hermione said cheerfully, thinking of him for the first time since she'd set foot in the complex that made up their Headquarters. "Do you know where he is?"

"No, but-"

The door tore open once again, this time revealing a black-haired boy with glasses. Hermione grinned and stepped forward, expecting to give Harry a happy, controlled greeting. She was more than a little surprised when her friend more or less tackled her, throwing his arms around her neck and almost bouncing up and down with excitement.

"You're back. I was so worried about you, you know," Harry said, a smile slopped across his face. "I'm so glad that you're okay. We won, too, which makes it even better. Ron will come at the end of next week, I heard, and Lee and the twins are due here tomorrow. It'll be crowded, especially with some of the new prisoners that they're bringing in, but it'll be worth it. Merlin, Hermione, I was so worried."

Once again, Hermione was almost knocked off her feet at the joy of having an actual friend. With a wide smile, the brown-haired girl hugged Harry a little tighter, then went on to assure him that she was fine, that he had nothing to worry about, and that it would only be a short amount of time before everything went back to normal.

Harry smiled, and Hermione did the same. For that one, tiny moment of time, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

**A/N- **

**No Draco this time, or last time, but the next chapter is going to be primarily his POV, so hopefully that'll make up for the lack of him. I love all the responses I got, only three away from three hundred, so thank you a whole bunch for that. **

**Now, for the winners of my little contest. First of all, remember how I said I'd email you? Yeah, I kind of forgot to do that until today, and by then I figured I could just stick it in here, so… **

**The winners are- **

**TeamGredandForge, obsessivegirl73, and… **

**No one yet. My last number hasn't been reached, so I've still got one spot open. If one of my winners reviews and hits that number, the reviewer in front of them will win. **

**Just to remind the winners of the conditions, I'll write one Harry Potter one-shot of any genre, to the exact specifications of the winner, which can be as specific or as vague as they want. I'd prefer not to try slash or cannon pairings, but will attempt them if asked. The winners can either leave their guidelines in a review, or PM me, whichever is easiest. **

**Thanks for all of the great reviews. I have a church retreat next weekend, and (unless my team loses), am hoping to be doing stats at a state football game the weekend after that, so it could be a while before my next update, but I'll try to get it up quickly. **

**~bballgirl32~**


	24. Temporary Home

___**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**This is my temporary home**_

_**It's not where I belong **_

_**Windows and rooms, that I'm passing through**_

_**This is just a stop on the way to where I'm going **_

_**I'm not afraid because I know**_

_**This is my temporary home **_

_**Temporary home, Carrie Underwood**_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

Draco didn't know where they all came from, but one second he was falling asleep in his freezing cold cell, and the next he was waking up to find two dozen students from Hogwarts huddled together a few meters away from his cell. They had thick, warm-looking blankets, and every single one of them was holding ceramic dishes filled to the brim with warm, creamy-looking soup.

He shook his head; there was no way that he wasn't dreaming.

"You're not dreaming. They _are _real."

_And _that was Bill Weasley. Draco shifted himself so that he was facing the cell adjacent to his, where a pale-looking Weasley heir was twirling his long, greasy hair around a dirty finger.

"What're you doing here?" asked Draco, keeping his voice low to avoid attracting the attention of his old classmates. He did not want them to see him in his current filthy state.

"My father is an arse," replied Bill, not taking his eyes off the crowd of students. A small smile crossed his lips as he continued, "The idiot left me with Potter, but wound up getting hit with a curse anyway. The bloody rebels raided the prisons. Nearly allof them. These guys you see right here, they're from high security. My dad was using it as a temporary storage for everyone who rebelled during the Battle at Hogwarts, and now the rebels don't have space to put them, so they're stuck with us."

Draco curled his lip in distaste. How stupid could the Warden get? The rebels have Fred and George! They would know everything about the prisons, and no one took _any _precautions! If Weasley was going to keep his head in the clouds, the Order of the Hallows might actually _lose_.

"Great. That's just great. We'll have to stare at them all day, too, I bet."

"Actually, no," Bill said. "From what I gather, they'll sleep down here, but nothing else."

"How wonderful," muttered Draco.

Then he turned around and huddled in the corner of his cell, closing his eyes and praying that everyone would be gone when he finally got the courage to open them.

Ten minutes later, a way, way, way too familiar voice spoke to him from right outside his cell.

"Are you okay, Draco? You look as though you are fending off nargles."

"No. Bloody. Way," muttered Draco. He ignored the voice.

The owner of the voice was not discouraged. At all.

"Guess what?" Looney Lovegood asked cheerfully. "I figured out what Fred and George were doing in that room! Do you want to know?"

_Ignore it, and it will eventually go away. _

"They were getting all of this stuff ready! Aren't you so happy for them?" A moment of quiet passed, and then Luna said, "Oh. You don't look so happy. And you're in a cage. Why are you in a cage, Draco?"

"My godfather is a ball of shit," muttered Draco, unable to help himself.

"_Really_? How does that work? Is it charmed to speak and move, or is it just symbolic-"

_Kill me now. _

"Not _literally_, you great idiot," growled Draco. "I mean that my living, breathing godfather, Sirius Black, stuck me in this cell because he is a jerk. Do. You. Un-der-stand?"

He peeked up to see Luna smiling dreamily. "Of course. Why didn't you just say so?" Draco didn't answer. "Are you very lonely in that cell? I think that I would be lonely, if I were you. Do you want to talk?"

"No."

"I think that you're lying," Luna said. Draco could see her sit down out of the corner of his eye, her white-blonde hair shimmering as she moved. When he glanced over, enormous gray eyes were staring straight at him. "You look _very _lonely. Really sad, too. I know a joke. Would you like to hear it?"

"No."

She told him anyway. It was just as stupid as Draco expected it to be. Then she told him about her tenth birthday party. After that, it was on the breeding habits of heliopaths.

When Sirius Black finally descended into the dungeons, Draco could not have been more pleased.

"Good Lord, Sirius. _Please _tell me that you found these… creatures better sleeping arrangements."

The dark-haired man's eyes landed on Luna, who was still wide-eyed and bushytailed even though most of the others in her group had long been asleep. She beamed at Sirius.

Sirius gave Luna a worried look, then hurriedly turned back to Draco, fidgeting as Luna alternated her tractor-beam gaze between the two of them.

"No, we have not," Sirius said, scooting a little further away from the strange blonde. "We have, however, found you better sleeping arrangements."

"Huh?" asked Draco, not having expected him to say anything like that at all.

"Arthur Weasley has a thousand galleon reward on your head now... more if it's not attached to your body. He's cracking down to compensate for letting his prisons be robbed, and catching his brother-in-law's killer is one of the first things that he wants to address. Even if you do get out, you'd be dead within days. Even _you_ aren't stupid enough to try to escape."

Draco started to spit an angry retort in Sirius's direction before he pulled up short, realizing something that he hadn't before.

It would look like he had turned traitor. No one knew that he'd been dragged away against his will, and they most certainly didn't know that he'd killed Prewett to avenge his father, not for any crazy rebel reasons. Eyes wide, Draco swallowed roughly.

Sirius was right. He wouldn't even try to escape anymore, especially not with a huge bounty hanging over his head.

"I… I'm stuck here," Draco muttered dejectedly.

"Oh, it won't be so bad," Luna piped up. "The people here are really nice. Maybe I'll be able to show you around tomorrow."

Sirius smirked. "You do that, Luna. Now come on, Draco. I'm sure that you're dying to get out of your cell."

"I am…" ventured Draco cautiously. "But where am I going to go? If you don't have room for these guys, where in the world could you possibly put me?"

"That's easy," Sirius said lightly. He tapped the door of the cell with his wand, and it popped opened. Holding the door open for Draco, he finished, "You'll get to share a room with your favorite cousin."

Draco cursed. There was only one cousin of his that could possibly be at headquarters, and that was Bellatrix Lestrange's 'son'.

"No way," Draco hissed. "No bloody fucking way." He hated Potter, the stupid filthy half-blood bastard. The traitor was self-righteous and annoying long before Draco knew _what _he was, but now… now his 'cousin' was less than dirt in Draco's eyes.

Sirius shrugged.

"Alright. Then I'll leave you in the dungeons."

Comfort. Pride. Comfort. Pride.

Draco hesitated, but he knew the answer long before he made his final decision. He may have been a proud Malfoy, but he had also been raised in luxury. There was no way that he'd give up a warm bed and fresh food just to make a point.

"If he starts giving me any of his self-righteous shit, I will kill him," said Draco. Sirius smiled.

"He has a wand. You don't. I'd love to see you try."

Draco opened his mouth to growl a reply, but Luna cut him off with a sweet, "Good night, Draco. I'll find you in the morning, and we can do our sun salutations together. Your eyes are very uncluttered, so I know that you must already do them every day."

"Maybe Potter won't be so terrible after all," muttered Draco, walking just a tiny bit faster. He couldn't get away from that crazy blond fast enough.

…

George sat in the middle of a large stone room, looking around in awe. Sirius had dumped him and Fred in there the second that they had gotten to Headquarters, saying that James wanted to speak with them. Then Sirius had left, promising that they could see all of their friends as soon as they were finished.

James hadn't come in yet, but George was glad. He needed a few seconds to get adjust to his surroundings. The whole complex was absolutely amazing. He hadn't been able to see the first part, as he'd had to keep his blindfold on around Fleur (something that angered him to no end), but what he _had _seen was positively brilliant. The complex, which was hidden in a seemingly abandoned mansion, was filled with strange magical objects that he had never seen before. There was almost no furniture to be found, and what George could see was so old that it was almost unusable. Abstract, slightly morbid paintings decorated the walls, statues peered down at him around every corner, and the place in general seemed to be something from an old horror story.

He absolutely loved it. If he had seen it before he'd gotten whisked into an alternate dimension, George would have thought it was a prankster's dream. As it was, he could at least deem it laughingly appropriate for his current situation. There was none of the false hominess that had exuded from the Delacour house, and for that, George was faithful.

"So… creepy place," Fred commented.

"I like it," George said, somewhat defensively. Fred grinned roguishly.

"It's definitely interesting. Kind of dark, attractive, and mysterious. It fits our new, awesomely brilliant personas perfectly."

George half-laughed because it was true. He started to agree, but the door to the room opened and James Potter stepped in. The dark-haired man looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, his usually wild hair sat lankly on his head, and his previously cheerful face had lost a lot of his color. The war had clearly taken a very big toll on him.

"It's good to see you alive," James said, looking so absolutely weak that George had to find it in himself to force a smile.

"Same goes to see," said Fred. "Nice victory, by the way." James shrugged.

"I had nothing to do with it. That goes to you and Snape, maybe Sirius. Enough chatter, though. You boys look tired, and probably want to see Harry and Hermione… Before you ask, Ron isn't here because he had some… difficulties. He's fine, though, and Charlie will ship him here as soon as possible… Merlin knows we don't have the room, but… Never mind. I thought that you'd want to hear out battle plan really quickly. If you know _anything, _don't hold back. Even little pieces of information can be helpful."

"I think Snape managed to find out everything I know," George muttered, not able to keep the bitterness out of his voice. James sighed.

"Are you okay? We discussed that idea over and over again, and I didn't like it, but we eventually decided that it was necessary. I'm sorry."

George looked at James's weary hazel eyes, at his slumped posture, and assured him, "It wasn't so bad. Really. Um, you can talk about the battle plans now."

James relaxed a little, looking relieved. Normally, he would have probably ignored George's reassurances, but now he was going to take whatever reprieve that he could get.

"Good. Well… I suppose that I should go with what we're doing next. The prisoners are helpful, but we need more- as in the thousands of slaves that are at work across the country. We have spies at the Palace, including one who is exceptionally talented at using the Imperius Curse. If all goes well, he should be able to curse _someone _in the department that regulates the use of bells, and get them all deactivated, then destroyed once they are no longer linked to the slave. There will be some trouble in signaling to the slaves when they can apparate away, but other than that, we are expecting that mission to go smoothly."

"Alright," said Fred, nodding with George. That sounded simple enough. "Then what?"

"Then we'll wait, and Sirius and Viktor will work to teach the slaves as much combat as they can. Once they have the basics down, we'll attack. First, we need to seize the palace. Weasley Manor will probably be next, and then we'll storm Hogwarts, which is the most important battle of the war for the two of you. That's where Dumbledore and Grindelwald will almost certainly be. If we're going to catch them, that'll be where."

"And if we don't catch them there?" asked George, his hands sweating slightly. The talk of battles was making everything more urgent, including the knowledge that he and Fred may never get back to their old world. Before, he'd always reminded himself that they'd get back eventually, but James was reminding him that they might never catch Dumbledore or Grindelwald. Not only that, but even if they did catch one of them, it didn't necessarily mean that they'd cooperate, or even know how to help them.

James's expression turned apologetic, as if he could feel George's fear, but couldn't quite keep himself from turning those fears into realities.

"Then everything will fall apart. We're building this rebellion on the hope that you guys will be able to help us. If you don't end anything by the battle of Hogwarts, we'll be doomed. We don't have enough people, enough supplies, enough anything… If we don't get Dumbledore or Grindelwald there, we never will, and things will be even worse than before."

Fred and George both groaned, and James shook his head sadly. "I need to go now," he said. "Please don't worry too much. We'll just take things one day at a time, and… everything will be all right."

Then he walked away, and George knew it was because he couldn't try to cheer them up anymore. James was blatantly lying, and he knew that they would see right through everything that he told them. Even he didn't believe that things would be all right.

George moved closer to Fred, just as his brother scooted in his direction. They would have to stick close together to make it through the next few weeks alive.

**A/N- **

**First, I apologize for the horribly late, short, update. I got blindsided by mid-terms, and have spent the last week and a half buried up to my eyeballs in homework. I'm done now, though, so updates will hopefully become more consistent again. **

**Um, I've posted the stories for the two contest winners, in case some people don't know. They're called 'Walking on Clouds', and 'Untouchable' if anyone wants to read them. On that note, I also have one more one-shot to write. The third winner of the contest is…. PhilosopherStone909, and they can describe the one-shot that they would like in a PM or review, and I'll get it done as soon as possible. **

**Thanks so much for the reviews, and I will update as soon as I can. **

**~bballgirl32~**

**P.S. I really wanted to get this posted, so the proofreading is minimal. If there are enough mistakes to make you angry, I'll probably be revising in a couple of days, so you can quit reading and check back then, if it's too bad. **


	25. When We Stand Together

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**The right thing to guide us  
>Is right here inside us<br>No one can divide us  
>When the light is nearly gone<br>But just like a heartbeat  
>The drum beat carries on<br>And the drum beat carries on  
>Just like a heartbeat<strong>_

_**When We Stand Together, Nickel**__**back**_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

Draco entered Harry Potter's room with the feeling of being led down death row. Sirius was holding his arm too tightly, yanking Draco forward and making any hesitation impossible. The part of Draco that still clung to his pureblood standards hated himself for not walking into the room with his head held high, leading Sirius instead of being led himself. Most of him, however, was angry and beaten and too lazy to make any struggle at all.

Harry was sitting on a cheaply made bed when Sirius pushed Draco through the door, a filthy mudblood that he recognized as Fred's slave sitting right beside him. Their shoulders were even touching. A shabby cot was tossed into the corner next to the bed, and Draco was pretty sure that he was supposed to sleep there. His back hurt so badly after sleeping on the floor for so long that he didn't even think to complain.

"Draco," Harry said, nodding his head in his cousin's direction. Then again, Draco supposed that Harry wasn't his actual cousin. He still couldn't believe that he'd been fooled so badly as to think that the filthy half-blood could ever be Bellatrix's child.

"It's nice to meet you," the slave said, looking straight at him with piercing brown eyes. It was clear that she did not know her place, but Draco knew better than to say anything. He was on thin ice already and didn't need to get himself executed. "I'm Hermione."

"And I'm tired," Draco announced, effectively ignoring both of them. He turned to Sirius. "I am allowed to sleep, aren't I? Or do I have to ask permission to do that, too?"

"Don't be an arse, Draco," Sirius said. He let his dark eyes rest on Harry. "I'm sorry, Kid. We don't have anywhere else to put him, and too many people felt bad for sticking him in the dungeons."

"It's fine," Harry said, because he was righteous and friendly and an all-around good person, apparently. "I don't mind." Draco knew that was bull crap, though. Harry was more vicious than an angry manticore; he was just very, very good at hiding it.

"If you insist," Sirius shrugged, sounding skeptical. Then he left, and Draco was alone with the two mudbloods.

He glared at both of them individually, then stomped off to his bed and laid down on the cot, resolving to get a good night's sleep. Harry and the Mudblood's eyes were boring into his back, but Draco closed his eyes and pretended that he was back at Malfoy Manor with his father still alive and war only a far-off worry.

Surprisingly, after more than three weeks of sleeping on a hard concrete floor, he fell asleep without any problem.

…

"Draco."

Draco turned over, pulling his covers over his head and pretending like he didn't hear his voice being called. He felt someone breathing sweet-smelling breath on his face.

"Draco."

If he ignored the voice, it would go away. It had to go away.

"Draco."

He opened his eyes, startled to find himself looking into liquid silver. The blond jumped back so far that he cracked his head against the wall, let out a loud curse, and pitched forward, rolling off of his bed and on top of Luna Lovegood.

"Wha's gon on?" Potter muttered sleepily.

"Nothing," hissed Draco, struggling to get himself off of an eerily smiling Loony.

"Are you okay, Draco? I'm afraid that you hit your head quite hard."

Potter's cheap bed groaned as his weight shifted, and Draco knew that his bloody cousin had seen what was going on when he started laughing like a freaking cow.

"D-Draco," laughed Potter. "_What _are you doing?"

"I'm going to be sick," moaned Draco. He finally managed to roll himself off from on top of Luna and climbed hastily to his feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You're bleeding. Can I get you something for that?" asked Luna. She hopped to her feet with an eerie grace, then set a hand on his arm that he shook off instantly. The creepy little Lovegood girl didn't seem to notice.

"_No_," growled Draco. Harry was laughing so hard that he was clutching his stomach.

"You… and… Luna…"

"You're quite mistaken, Harry," Luna said wistfully. "Draco and I are just friends right now. We won't become anything else for at least two weeks."

Draco stomped out the door. He had no idea where he was going or where he wanted to go, but anything was better than hanging around with Potter and Luna. _Anything. _

Of course, little did he know that the two other would just _have _to follow him.

…

Hermione was happy. It was undeniable. She was in the middle of a war, had just spend a month locked up in a dungeon, and lived a life as a fugitive and a slave before that, but she was happy. Harry was with her, she had Fred back, and the memory of Percy still made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Even at that moment, at a strategy meeting, wedged in between Fred and a grinning Lee, Hermione found herself absolutely shaking with joy.

"Ve are veady to strike again," Viktor Krum announced in his harshly accented voice. He looked absolutely terrifying as he strolled back and forth in front of the room in his military uniform, dark, gnarled wand looking malicious in a holster at his belt. "This time, the rebels vill be trying to rescue every slave in the empire. As you all know, ve have a big army, but ve vill be needing help that can't be gotten anywhere else. To do this, Nymphadora Tonks, one of our best spies, is going to place the Imperius Curse upon Gideon Prewett, the Keeper of the Bells. If the curse vorks, he vill deactivate the bells just as a good numver of rebels signal for the slaves to apparate avay."

Hermione snuggled back into her seat as Krum finally came to a stop and, looking at the crowd with hard eyes, finished, "Tonks vill act _tomorrow_. Until then, I urge you to rest. If she succeeds, ve vill have much vork in front of us. The slaves vould give us the men that ve need to start this var, and _everyone _vill be expected to contribute. Do you _understand_?"

Fred nudged Hermione in the ribs and, with a small laugh, joked, "With that accent, I really can't say I can."

Biting her lip to keep from laughing, Hermione ducked her head when Krum's deep brown eyes landed on Fred.

"Focus Veasley!" he boomed.

"Yes, Sir," replied Fred. Krum glared and continued.

"As I am sure you realize, ve vill have three targets after ve get the slaves. The Palace, Veasley Manor, and Hogwarts. Vith our spies, the Palace vill be easy, but the other two vill have to be fought for… mainly vith slaves and rescued prisoners. The problem with them, is that they have to be _trained. _And ve need people to train them.

"If ve succeed, I estimate a hundred thousand soldiers vill be need needing vork. Black and I can take some of them, and I vill have a few personal generals able to train more, but ve need another _twenty _competent individuals villing to train the rest."

"I will!" said Fred, raising his hand.

"I said _competent_," Krum stressed.

"Let him do it," James Potter mentioned from somewhere else in the room.

"I want to, too!" George pitched in.

"They're seventeen!" Krum cried.

"And super smart," retorted Fred.

"They started the rebellion," Minerva McGonagall announced. "You should give them the benefit of the doubt."

"Vhatever!" Krum said, throwing his hands in the air helplessly. "Fine. Ve have two. Anyone else?"

Several other people stood up, including James and McGonagall. Hermione wanted to, but she knew that Krum would never let her; she was only fifteen, and that was too young, no matter what she had been through.

When Krum had twenty people, he stopped them and announced, "This meeting is adjourned. If you have been selected, stay after. Ve have things to study!"

Everyone who hadn't been selected started to leave. Hermione hesitated, waiting for Fred and George, but then figured that she and Lee could go find Harry, whose father hadn't allowed him to attend, instead. The two former slaves started to leave, but Krum asked Lee to stay behind as well, and Hermione was forced to go on by herself.

She had only just left the strategy room when she came across the strangest thing that she had ever seen in her entire life.

**A/N- Sorry that was so short, but I have been busy, and I really wanted to get something out. As you can probably tell, a whole bunch is going to be going on next chapter, which will hopefully make up for this. **

**Um, to PhilosopherStone909, I haven't forgotten about your one-shot. I will get it out sometime, but it may take a little while. **

**Other than that, I realize I've been kind of inconsistent on updating this story, so thanks for sticking with it. I'm doing my best, and hopefully things will smooth out sometime soon. **

**~bballgirl32~**


	26. Saving Me

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**And say it for me, say it to me  
>And I'll leave this life behind me<br>Say it if it's worth saving me. **_

_**Saving Me, Nickelback **_

_**.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.**_

Fred fidgeted in his seat while Viktor Krum spoke in his thickly accented voice. He was going over how to teach mostly untrained witches and wizards the basics of magic. It was boring. Very, very boring.

"Very good. Now, vhat vere the first four spells you are to be teaching the slaves?"

"Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Protego, and Avada Kedavra," George recited monotonously. He'd started doodling on the parchment they had been given to take notes. A big-headed Viktor Krum was barking out orders from the front of the room. A smile flitted across Fred's face.

"Correct, Veasley," Krum said. He looked pissed. Fred didn't know if it was because he obviously had some beef with the Weasleys and didn't believe that he and George had actually changed, or if it was something to do with _their _presence in particular. Maybe he didn't like that they'd started the rebellion that he'd been working to get going his entire life. Or maybe being angry was just a Viktor Krum thing. He'd pretty much always looked pissed off during the Tri-Wizard tournament.

Viktor began talking again, but Fred already pretty much knew what he was saying. They'd get the slaves wands and teach them the basics, then send them out against highly trained wizards and hope to overpower Dumbledore's army with the element of surprise. After the spies took over the Palace from the inside, the whole war would depend on how long it took to capture Dumbledore or Grindelwald, and whether or not one of the two great leaders could actually help Fred and George get back to their own time, even when they were captured.

It was kind of frightening.

Krum blabbered on for another hour or so before he dismissed them. He closed by saying that everyone should know about the results of Tonks's mission by the end of the next day. They'd review the strategy against tomorrow, then move on once they knew what they had to work with.

"Ve are meeting here at four o'clock. Do not be late!" he bellowed.

Fred sighed in relief.

"Come on, George," he said. "I'm starving. Let's go round up something to eat."

George hopped up, and he and Fred darted away before Krum could find something to yell at them about.

…

Draco was angry. He had just wanted to spend some time _alone_, but Potter and Lovegood apparently did not understand that. They'd been following him since Lovegood's impromptu wakeup call earlier that morning, and no matter what he did, they wouldn't leave him alone.

Shoved in a corner with his arms crossed over his chest, Draco glared as Potter and Lovegood argued about whether or not they should go down to the cafeteria to get supper, or wait for Sirius to fetch them.

Well, argued wouldn't be the right word. Lovegood didn't argue. She listened to another person's point of view, then stated her opinion in an airy, non-confrontational way. It was disgusting.

"What do you think, Draco?" Potter asked, looking at him with his annoyingly kind green eyes.

"I think that you _two _should get something to eat. Without me," Draco tried, his voice perfectly threatening, just like his father had taught him. He knew neither of them would be scared. They hadn't left him all morning, despite threats, screaming, and pulling of hair. They weren't going to leave him now.

"Nah. You need the company," said Harry.

"I don't want the company."

Harry and Luna shared a look. It appeared as if though they were having some sort of silent conversation.

"Well, Draco," said Harry.

"It appears that we have reached a conundrum," Luna continued seriously. Draco looked back and forth between them in annoyance. They were worse than Fred and George. Well, at least worse than the old Fred and George, who talked back and forth like they could read each other's mind. He didn't know the new Fred and George well enough to be sure of anything about them, other than, of course, the fact that they were dirty no-good rotten rebels.

"You see, Draco," Harry went on. He looked happy. Gleeful, really. "We _have _to spend the day with you. Or, at least I do. Luna actually likes you. I, however, am here on the orders of-"

"Our bloody godfather."

Harry grinned.

"Pretty much."

Draco cursed. How couldn't he have seen that? Of course Black wouldn't give him three seconds to himself. Price on his head or not, Draco was apparently an untrustworthy scoundrel, and would have to be under constant surveillance. Just because Black was too lazy to do it himself didn't mean that he wouldn't make someone else do it for him. Especially not his too-trusting little man slave. The 'good' godson.

Face red, hands clenched into fists, Draco got to his feet.

"Where is he? I want to talk to him about this. There's no way that he thinks he can force you into following me around all bloody day, especially not when I'm obviously not getting out of here anyway, and-"

Luna hopped in front of him and squeezed his lips together with her fingers, effectively shutting him up. Draco swatted at her hand, but she didn't let go.

"You get angry very easily," she noted. "At one point in time, I figured it may have been the nargles, but now I am becoming increasingly certain that you are just a very angry person."

She let go of his lips and gestured for him to speak. Draco was too angry for words.

"You… kidding… got to… me… be…"

"Oh, no. I am perfectly serious," Luna said earnestly, peering up at him with her silvery eyes. They were almost the same color as Draco's, but softer and warmer, like liquid moonlight instead of hard steel. "First, you have to-"

"Luna," Harry said, stepping in front of the small blonde and putting a defensive hand on her arm. "I think you should back off. Draco's not too happy right now, and-"

Luna lightly removed Harry's hand from her arm and stepped towards Draco, putting one of her own small hands on _his _arm. It was warm. And soft.

Draco swallowed. He was already going bonkers after only a couple of weeks in the hellhole that the rebels called their Headquarters. He didn't know how he'd survive very much longer.

"Draco doesn't care. Do you, Draco?"

Like he was hypnotized, Draco shook his head. Harry snorted out a laugh, startling the blond into realizing what he had just done. He yanked his hand away from Luna's gentle touch.

"I mean yes, yes, I do care," he spluttered. "I am not going to listen to any of your stupid, useless, hair-brained remedies, and I don't need to anyway, because I do not have anger problems-"

"Draco," Luna chirped.

"-And if you would ever get your stupid little head out of the clouds, you might realize that it's _you _who needs the help-"

"Draco."

"Don't you get that I _don't like you_. I never have, and I never will. You're absolutely insane, and all that I want is to be left-"

Then she kissed him. Draco was ranting so fiercely that his hair was practically standing on end, when Luna Lovegood stood on her tiptoes, grabbed his hair, and covered his rapidly moving mouth with her own. Draco stood frozen. One second passed, then two, and he was just regaining his bearings and thinking about pulling away when he realized something very, very strange.

Loony Lovegood was a good kisser.

He might have kissed her back for one second. Maybe two. Or five. Or ten. His hand may have found its way into her soft wavy hair for _maybe _two seconds.

His stupid cousin was what stopped it. Harry cleared his throat loudly, startling Draco into realizing what he was doing. As if he hadn't been just as responsible for the mind-blowing snog as Lovegood had been, Draco pulled back roughly.

"Do… do not… don't ever touch me again…" Draco said, even though he couldn't take his eyes off of hers. He _wanted _to kiss her again.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Luna said airily, a serene smile on her face. Her silver eyes were laughing, like she knew that every tiny bit of his disgust was a complete lie. "That was not supposed to happen for at least another two weeks."

Draco screamed, then turned and stalked away. Thankfully, Potter was laughing too hard to follow after him.

…

Hermione gaped as she watched the strange Lovegood girl snog Draco Malfoy until it looked like he was about to melt. She didn't know either of them very well, but she clearly remembered the few minutes that she had spent with Malfoy before. He was cruel and prejudiced, and Luna, from what Hermione gathered the few times they had exchanged conversation, was the opposite.

She vaguely realized that she didn't quite get the full effect of what was going on when Harry burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing that she had ever seen, but she still found the situation terribly funny.

Something in the back of her mind told her that this was something that she _had _to tell Fred about.

Something else wondered if Percy would have found it hilarious, or if he would have balked at the impropriety of kissing like that in public. Then Percy and kissing found their way into the same sentence, and Hermione remembered what it had been like that one time that she _had _kissed Percy. She thought about everything that had been happening, and what he thought of it, and if he was still okay.

"Hermione!" Harry said, noticing her for the first time. Hermione started, torn out of her thoughts. "Did you _see _that? Draco… and Luna." He turned his green eyes on Luna. "Wow… that was just… wow."

"Yeah," Hermione said vaguely. She was still distracted. Her brain told her that there were only three steps left in the war, three things for her to get through before she wouldn't have to worry about Percy anymore, but her heart told her that those three steps could take an awful long time to finish. "It was hilarious."

"You know," Luna said. She blinked dreamily. "I believe that I should find Draco before he does something to harm himself or others. Good-bye."

"Um, I think I should go, too," Hermione said distractedly. She shouldn't have let Percy sneak into her head. Now her good mood was gone, and all that she wanted to do was sleep the rest of the war away. "Bye, Harry."

Then she darted off, only half-noticing the 'Was is something I said?' look that crossed Harry's face.

_Three more steps_, she reminded herself. The slaves. The palace. Hogwarts.

After those were finished, everything would be fine.

Or so Hermione hoped.

**A/N- **

**I am completely aware that this was a very short filler chapter, and I am also aware that it took me almost a month to get it up. I sincerely apologize. Basketball started, I'm pulling a Hermione and taking nine classes in an eight hour day, and I've had absolutely no time for writing. **

**On the bright side, my school's Christmas break just started, I'm off for the next two weeks, and I should have more time for writing. No more huge hiatuses. **

**Now, two side notes. One is that this story is kind of on its way to concluding. As Hermione just made a point to say, there are three more main scenes, and I'm predicting about two chapters for each of them, plus another couple to conclude. I don't know how long this'll take, but I'd say there'll be 6-9 chapters left. **

**The second note is that, despite my sickeningly long absence, I've accumulated a ridiculous amount of reviews since I posted last, and I thank you for that profusely. Please keep that up, and know that I am trying to review, even if I am a bit slow sometimes. **

**I'm done now. Thanks for reading, and please review. **


	27. Come Together

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_We've got to come together  
>'Cause in the end we can make it - alright<br>We've got to brave the weather  
>Through all of the storms<br>We've got to come together  
>'Cause in the end we can make it - alright<em>**

**_Come Together, Third Day_**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

The next day passed painstakingly slowly. George could see that everyone was more tense than usual, that Headquarters was holding their breath for the result of Tonks's mission. Hermione was oddly quiet, Harry was hiding out by himself somewhere, and Krum had let them out of their class a half hour early. Even Fred, who always had a joke to take the anxiety out of a situation, sat quietly off to the side for much of the morning.

As more time passed without any news, everyone's apprehension skyrocketed. The time when the mission was supposed to be finished came and went, and several more hours ticked by after that. Headquarters was one big ball of energy, and no one was quite sure what to do with themselves.

Then sirens started going off. Not normal ones, but ones that droned so loudly George felt them all the way down to his bones. Time froze, and everyone stopped what they were doing in an attempt to make sense of what was going on. Krum cursed loudly enough that heard him over the impossibly loud noise, and then he disappeared into the control room. Several minutes passed before the alarm was turned off, and by that time, it seemed like all of Headquarters had gathered around the control room's door. After some amount of time, Sirius Black appeared and snuck through them, then ducked into the room with Krum.

Something bad had happened. That was apparent immediately. George took out his wand as a precaution, and he wasn't surprised to see that almost everyone else did the same thing. Several minutes ticked by in silence, and then...

George stiffened as the air crackled with the unmistakable sensation of magical wards breaking. He could feel the spells that were interwoven into the foundation of the building break, and, before anyone really had time to react, someone appeared out of nowhere.

Two dozen wands were pointed at that person within an instant, but it quickly became apparent that they were not needed. George let out a strangled curse when he recognized the bubblegum pink hair of the person on the floor. Nymphadora Tonks was lying in front of them, and she was, most obviously, dead.

"That's not good," Fred muttered. "That's really, really not good."

"The body is bad," James spoke up, "but how did they get it here…?"

His question hung unanswered in the air, even though everyone had a pretty good idea. Dumbledore had caught Tonks, and, more likely than not, decided that it would be in everyone's best interests to end the war before it really started. In other words, with the wards down and the alarms blaring, George had almost no doubt that an actual invasion was coming at any second.

The door to the control room burst open, and Krum marched out, Sirius Black right on his tail.

"Those of you who volunteered to lead the slaves are to step for'vard. Ve have a problem."

Sirius stepped forward and spoke up.

"Dumbledore has an army of his best men positioned to attack. After Tonks's failed attempt to rescue the slaves, Grindelwald reacted by… by killing every single one of them. We no longer have their help." Sirius waited while everyone took in that information. George felt like he'd been slammed in the chest. They'd lost thousands of soldiers, and now they were being invaded… Everything had seemed so straightforward only yesterday, but now…. now he had no idea what was going to happen. He honestly couldn't see the war working out in their favor anymore, not at all.

Suddenly, he felt very, very sick.

"Ve are not beaten yet!" Krum bellowed as his dark eyes took in the despaired faces that lined the room. "This is a _setback_, not a crushing blow! Ve only need to keep moving!"

"In other words, we think that it's time to go after Weasley Manor," said Sirius. "Our spies have not all been expelled from the Palace, and it would be foolish to attack there until we have no other options. Right now, getting rid of the Warden is our biggest concern." George's stomach managed to get even weaker. He definitely didn't like his father in this world, but the thought of killing him was still unpleasant. "Viktor and I discussed this thoroughly, and, despite our lack of strategy, we believe it best to attack immediately. We need to evacuate anyway, the Weasleys will definitely not expect the attack, and getting into the house will be simple with our current numbers.

The room went quiet as this was considered, and then Viktor took it upon himself to speak again.

"Collect your things immediately. Ve vill apparate to the abandoned prison-yard near Veasley Manor, and, vhen ve are ready, Sirius vill explain our plan of attack. Quickly now!"

Then everything erupted into chaos. People were sprinting in random directions, trying to get to their rooms, James and a woman that George recognized as Lily were arguing about what to do with Bill Weasley, and Hermione was sitting in a corner, looking like she was about to be sick.

George wanted to ask Fred if he knew what was wrong with her, but eventually decided against it. Instead, he sighed and said, "I suppose that we should grab everything we can."

Fred didn't look anymore enthused.

"I don't want to go there. What if it ends up being us… what if we're supposed to kill him?"

The twins looked at each other for a moment, then looked away.

"Either we'll have to do it," said Fred.

"Or we'll wind up losing our heads and letting him go," George added sullenly. For a moment, it felt like neither of them were going to be able to get going, like they were going to stay where they were and simply let the invading soldiers get to them, but then the sirens started up again, even louder than before. The enemy must have been getting closer.

"Come on," George said. "We've got to hurry."

Then the twins sprinted off to get their possessions, praying that they would get out before it was too late, and yet wishing that they would never have to leave.

…

Hermione was on the verge of having a mental breakdown. She paced around the field outside of Weasley Manor frantically, unsure of what she should do. Percy was in there, and if he was found, he'd surely be killed! She couldn't just tell everyone not to attack, though. That would pretty much ensure that the enemy won the war, and Hermione refused to do that to her friends.

Yet, the thought of Percy dying because of her was too much to bear...

The brown-haired witch's eyes widened when she remembered that Percy's death wouldn't only hurt her emotionally, but it would also hurt her physically… In fact, it would kill her.

She could remembered Percy's words like they were yesterday, from way back when they had first made their vow.

"_You will agree to do __everything __in your power to protect me if there is ever a time when I'm in danger."_

"Bloody hell," Hermione muttered to herself. This pretty much fit that scenario perfectly.

The only problem was that Hermione had no idea what she was going to do. It wasn't like Weasley Manor would be unprotected. If she wanted to sneak in early to warn him, she'd have to set off dozens of wards to do so, and that would pretty much take away any advantage that the rebels had.

There weren't many other options for her, though. She could wait until they did invade and try to find him then, but that would be risky, and the chances of her getting to him on time were slim. Getting an opportunity to actually talk was even more unlikely… but it was the only option that she could live with. If it didn't work and she wound up dying for it, well, then that would be a sacrifice she would have to make. Hermione wasn't going to ruin the war just because of one stupid deal that she made, and she definitely wasn't going to cost thousands of people their lives just to save Percy.

Hermione would position herself near the front of the forces, then get to Percy's room at fast as she could. If he wasn't there, well… she would scour the entire castle to find him. Then she supposed that she'd have to warn him, maybe try to convince him to get out, and hope that he listened to her.

She glanced at the top of Weasley Manor, barely visible over the distant trees, and said a silent prayer for Percy's safety, as well as the safety of every one of the rebels who were going to invade the building.

Then Sirius started talking, and Hermione was forced to tear her thoughts away from Percy long enough to make sense of the rough military strategy that they were supposed to employ in their invasion.

Everyone was taking part, not just those designated as soldiers. They needed the overpowering numbers. It was one of the only ways that they could come out on top. Other than that, there wasn't much reason to the invasion at all. They would gather in predetermined groups of ten, assembling around the perimeter of the wards, and fire until they shattered. From then on out, each group would advance into the Manor, killing everyone they saw on their way. When the building was taken over, security would be established around the perimeter, and the building would become the new rebel stronghold.

A part of Hermione thought that this invasion would work out about just as well as Tonks's attempt to steal the slaves had, but she kept her mouth shut. She knew that Viktor and Sirius were more desperate than they were letting on, and that this wasn't the confident attack they were making it out to be.

It was a last ditch effort to scrap together a war that was almost lost before it even started. The rebels were so greatly outnumbered that if they couldn't win this battle, everything else would completely fall apart.

It seemed as though everyone else in the army knew this just as well as Hermione did, and so it was with desperate eyes and shaking hands that the ragtag group of rebels advanced upon Weasley Manor, hope so scare that no one dared to even consider the idea of victory.


	28. The Impossible

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

_**Unsinkable ships, sink**_  
><em><strong>Unbreakable walls, break<strong>_  
><em><strong>Sometimes the things you think would never happen<strong>_  
><em><strong>Happen just like that<strong>_  
><em><strong>Unbendable steel, bends<strong>_  
><em><strong>If the fury of the wind is unstoppable<strong>_  
><em><strong>I've learned to never underestimate<strong>_  
><em><strong>The impossible<strong>_

_**The Impossible, Joe Nichols**_

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

The rebels were doomed. That was all that Fred could think as he drearily trekked forward to what he was sure would be his death. Nervous whispers filled the air, towards the back of the group, younger children were screeching and complaining, and Viktor Krum and Sirius Black were both marching a good twenty feet ahead of everyone else, probably because they were worried that the obviously inept group of soldiers would accidentally hit them with a stray curse.

Now, Fred had always had a thing for the underdog. He loved ragtag groups that managed to come together and beat the bigger, stronger opponent in the end. The thing was, though, that it was pretty rare for an underdog to win, and by the way that things looked, the rebels were about as underdog-ish as they could get.

Everything that Krum and Sirius had been working for hinged on having time to prepare and train. With that taken away, the rebels had absolutely nothing. If Dumbledore and Grindelwald had any brains at all, they'd know exactly where all the rebels went off to after they raided Headquarters and found it abandoned. If they could get through all the wards that surely surrounded Weasley Manor, it wouldn't take more than a half hour for Dumbledore to funnel in hundreds of Durmstrang brutes to crush the uprising once and for all.

Fred let out a low sigh as he continued to march towards the gloomy looking manor. He was breaking one of his top personal rules; always look up. This stupid world was starting to suck the twin out of him, and, despite his best efforts, he didn't think he was doing a very good job at stopping it.

Someone shouted for a break, but Fred knew that Krum would never go for it. They'd only walked a mile or so, and there wasn't much space left to cover. Stopping in the middle of the hilly, but treeless, terrain would turn them into sitting ducks. If Dumbledore's army happened to come early, everyone would be doomed.

Krum said something in his native language that sounded an awful lot like a nasty insult, then resumed his rigid march.

Fred swallowed. Gripped his wand. Kept walking. If there were people who had trouble walking a mile without needing to stop, this whole mission was more bleak than he originally thought…

He shook his head, trying to force all of the bad thoughts out of his head. He wished that George was next to him, but Krum had designated everyone who'd volunteered to train the slaves as impromptu group leaders. Unfortunately, the people were so frantic and the crowds so unorganized that it felt like Krum hadn't succeeded in doing anything except for sticking Fred in one section of their weak marching formation, and tossing George far off in another.

Looking out across the sad-looking army, Fred wondered what had happened to George. He wondered if he shouldn't leave his group and find his brother. He prayed that they'd both get through it safely, or that at least George would, because Fred knew that he wouldn't be able to live without him.

Why in Merlin's name did Krum ever have to split them up? Why had Fred allowed it? Now he wouldn't be able to watch his twin's back.

Great. More bad thoughts. Fred switched his focus to the land that surrounded the army. Most of it looked exactly like it had when he and George had popped into this godforsaken world the first time. The rolling hills and intimidating manor that loomed in the distance were exactly as they had been, but now, thanks to the rebels' efforts, there was no prison. In place of the crudely fenced in area was a square of charred land and burnt-down barracks. If he looked closely enough, Fred thought that he could see bodies that no one had bothered to clean up.

He began to wonder what'd happen to his body if he died in the upcoming battle, then smacked himself in the head to stop himself from even considering the possibility. He was being stupid. An idiot. Right now, there were a bunch of fancy wards surrounding the place, but that was about it. His 'parents' and Percy were probably the only people inside, and they'd be easy enough to take out. They just had to be quick enough to finish everything off before the real army came.

Well, and they had to be strong enough to hold down the manor after it was taken over.

The increasingly frightening building loomed larger and larger as the rebels moved forward, and Sirius and Krum began to lag back, falling more closely in step with their army. After a few more minutes of walking, Krum stopped and waved his wand, firing a sharp curse seemingly at nothing. Wards shimmered from not twenty feet in front of him as they easily absorbed what Fred was sure was a nasty curse.

"Ve are as close as ve vill get," he barked. "Hit these vards vith all you have, but do not be being foolish. Hit only the vards, and not your allies. Vhen they break, storm the manor and kill the enemy Veasleys. Is this clear?"

Everyone yelled the affirmative. Fred was too nervous to make a smartarse comment like he had the last time Krum had asked a similar question.

Then, in a flurry of movement and shining lights, the barrage on the manor's defenses began. Fred took out his wand and started firing, too, every powerful-seeming spell that he knew. The entire group was casting and shooting everything that they had, and the wards surrounding the manor were lit up like a Christmas tree. None of anyone's efforts seemed to make a lasting impression, though. Other than the fireworks show, the spells were doing what appeared to be absolutely nothing.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen. The spells were growing weaker and more haphazard, and Sirius and Krum both had to continually snap at the rebels to continue firing, to remind them that it would only take time, and the wards would break.

Fred was starting to doubt the truth to their statement when the first alarm went off. Even though the shrill noise sent shivers down his spine, and even though it meant that help was surely coming, it also meant that the wards were almost down.

Two more minutes of casting shattered the manor's defenses completely, and all hell broke loose. Encouraged, the rebels recklessly sprinted forward, charging as quickly as they could in their desire to take down the terrible Weasleys. Fred ran halfheartedly behind, tired and worried and unable to be truly hopeful.

Those alarms meant soldiers, and if those soldiers came before the manor was completely taken over, his dad would find some way to transport them directly into the middle of battle, and that would make any lasting siege impossible.

Taking a deep breath and praying for the best, Fred took his place in the crowd of people that was flooding into the manor, unsure of what was going to come next.

…

Hermione was lost. After the wards had gone down, she'd sprinted into the manor as quickly as she could, just like she'd planned, but everything had quickly gone downhill from there. Her biggest problem was that Krum hadn't slowed the soldiers to give any directions at all. Contrary to his usual stingy attitude, he'd allowed them to charge recklessly at the manor, giving Hermione no additional time to warn Percy. To make things even worse, her clumsy efforts to find him through the mess of revenge-hungry rebels had led her to a part of the manor that she had never been in before.

Rows and rows of hallways branched out in front of her, all of them looking identical to one another. All of the other rebels had veered towards the more lived-in areas of the castle, so she was alone, with absolutely nothing to mark where she was going or where she'd already been.

Percy had mentioned something about special charms to keep out intruders, charms that ensured that anyone who didn't know exactly where they were going would get lost and wander the halls eternally, but she'd thought that she knew the place well enough to avoid getting into that situation. She hadn't exactly had free reign when she'd been kept prisoner, but she knew exactly what the area around Percy's room looked like and had been sure that she'd be able to recognize it.

Unfortunately, Hermione had grossly overestimated her abilities. With the tentative steps of someone who knew that they'd got themselves in a horrible situation, Hermione cautiously ventured forward, randomly opening a door and poking her head into the room. Her wand was up in case she accidentally stumbled across someone other than Percy, but it was only an extra bedroom.

Not having expected much different, she continued forward, opening doors and poking her head down hallways, half expecting the Warden himself to pop out from a dark corner and kill her before she had any idea what was going on.

After what felt like an eternity, Hermione banged her head against a wall in frustration. Her mission had probably been insane anyway. There was no doubt that the Weasleys had made some kind of escape, that they'd ignored their house and saved themselves, like any intelligent human beings would do. What in the hell had she been thinking, venturing off by herself to look for Percy, especially without telling anyone?

"I'm an idiot," she muttered.

"That you are."

Reflexively, Hermione spun around with her wand up, ready to curse the unexpected voice, but, just as quickly, she realized exactly who had just spoken to her. With an excitement that she really hadn't expected from herself, the brown-haired witch lowered her wand and threw her arms around Percy's neck.

"Oh, Merlin," she said in relief, breathing in his rich scent and taking a strange comfort in the way that his thin arms felt when he awkwardly returned her hug. "First I thought that they were going to kill you, then I realized that meant that they'd kill me, too, and after a long time I thought that I'd gotten so lost that I'd just die anyway-"

"Hermione," Percy interrupted. He backed away from her and straightened his glasses, which she'd probably dislodged with her wild hug. His hair was strangely unkempt and stood in every direction. His cheeks were black with ash.

"Sorry," she said. "What's going on? How'd you find me?"

"My parents and I were in the security room, so we could keep an eye on what was going on," Percy said. "Neither of them noticed you- they were too focused on the fighting, but I-"

"Fighting?" Hermione asked. Her voice was embarrassingly squeaky, but she didn't care. If the Weasleys were off in a control room somewhere and there was fighting going on, that meant that soldiers had arrived sometime during her wild search for Percy.

"Yes, fighting," said Percy. "It didn't take twenty minutes for Dumbledore's forces to begin arriving. After the backup came, both of my parents decided it was time to get out... it wasn't that easy, obviously, and now they're stuck trying to fight. I actually ditched them so I could come find you."

Hermione blushed. She'd put him in a worse position than she would have if she would have just left well enough alone.

"Again, I'm sorry. I just thought that I would…" Hermione trailed off, unsure of what she should say. What had she thought? That she'd warn him? Honestly, that was silly. If they broke the wards, of course he'd realize an attack was coming. "I guess… I just wanted to make sure you were okay, before everything kind of, well, you know…"

She looked down embarrassedly, but Percy put a hand under her chin and forced her to make eye contact with him.

"I don't care," he said, and his voice was so honest and certain that Hermione knew he wasn't lying. "It's not a big deal. What is a big deal is what's going on in the other part of the manor. Our sides are fighting to the death, Hermione, and, as much as I'd like to, we can't just hide out here and wait for it to be done. I've got to get back there and help my family, and I know that nothing I could say will keep you from fighting with the rebels, so…"

"So…" Hermione repeated. For a moment, everything went quiet, and then she weakly suggested, "You could fight with me, for the rebels."

Percy shook his head.

"Even if I wanted to, it would be suicidal. I'd be getting shot at from both sides. Besides, I don't support what the rebels are doing. You've…" His brown eyes flashed to his feet, then landed back on Hermione's face with a strange warmth that made butterflies erupt in her stomach.

The tall redhead took a step closer to her and clumsily rested his hands on her waist. His face was flaming red, like he was embarrassed to be touching her at all, and, no matter how inappropriate it was at that moment, Hermione found his behavior to be completely endearing.

"You've shown me that you, as an individual, are amazing," Percy finally continued. He cleared his throat uncertainly. "But… even though a part of me knows that it's foolish, I still can't look on your… your…" He shook his head, and the desperation in his expression showed Hermione that he had no idea how to say what he wanted to without offending her.

He didn't need to finish his sentence to offend her. Even though Hermione had known that Percy wouldn't switch sides, it still hurt her to hear his confirmation of it, especially when that confirmation was partnered with his admission that he still didn't see Muggleborns as actual people. None of them except for her, anyway.

Hermione knew that Percy had been taught those things since he could talk, that it wasn't his fault, but it killed her that such an amazing person couldn't get this one little thing right.

"Don't say it," Hermione said. "I… we need to get back to the fighting."

They locked gazes. Percy didn't move his hands.

"You went out of your way to save me," Percy reminded her. "We don't hate each other. If this is the last time I see you, I don't want it to end like this."

He was right. In fact, Hermione had hoped for something more when she'd went out to look for him. She didn't know what, but she hadn't wanted a short, useless argument and an agreement to run off and try to kill each other's friends and family. That wasn't right. It wasn't what she'd been looking for, and it definitely wasn't the reunion that she'd thought of so many times in the past weeks.

"I don't want this to be the last time that I see you," Hermione said softly. She didn't speak any louder because she wasn't confident that she could keep herself from crying.

Percy didn't say anything for the long time, and she knew it was because he had a good idea of exactly how unlikely it was that would ever talk again.

Finally, he simply asked, "Knowing that I did honestly consider switching sides, and that I am aware of how unfounded my bigotry is, would you… would you let me kiss you? One more time?"

"I'm a Mudblood," Hermione reminded him bitterly, even though she knew he didn't care, not in her case, anyway.

"That's something I'm all too aware of," Percy muttered. He leaned down and was just about to touch his lips to hers, when…

_**Boom! **_

Percy cursed loudly, and they both jumped apart.

"Damn. Whoever's losing isn't going down without a fight," Percy said. "I'm sorry. We've got to get going."

In a movement so callous that it made Hermione want to slap him in the face, he sloppily placed a quick kiss on her lips, then grabbed her hand and started yanking her back towards the battle.

Hermione tried to drive her disappointment from her mind and focus on the disaster that she was terrified would await her.


	29. In the Air Tonight

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

**_I can feel it comin' in the air tonight, oh Lord_**  
><strong><em>I've been waitin' for this moment for all my life, oh Lord<em>**  
><strong><em>I can feel it comin' in the air tonight, oh Lord<em>**  
><strong><em>I've been waitin' for this moment all my life, oh Lord oh Lord<em>**

**_In the Air Tonight, Phil Collins_**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

The first part of the sneak attack went surprisingly smoothly. George led his people through the front part of the manor and headed straight for the dining room, which he remembered was the biggest, and probably most important room in the house, at least from a defensive standpoint. There, Krum and his forces quickly sealed off half the doors, only leaving two entrances to defend.

The middle of the manor was more or less secured, and there was little else to be done until Dumbledore's army arrived. Taking advantage of the precious spare time, Krum ordered everyone in the room to start transfiguring the sections of table into beds for the injured. These beds were then banished off to one corner of the room, and a handful of lesser-able rebels were designated to help any rebels who were hurt in the siege. Powerful wards were quickly established around the makeshift hospital.

"Don't be getting cocky!" Krum screamed continually. "Ve know not vhat our allies are doing… nor do ve know v'here Grindelvald and Dumbledore's army is. Keep ready! Keep moving!"

George didn't need to be told twice. His wand didn't leave his hand, his eyes continually flashed between the two usable entrances to the hall, and his mind flickered to Fred constantly.

What had his twin done? George had taken the safe, strategic route and tried to secure the center of the manor, but that was so un-Fred-like that George hadn't even been disappointed when he hadn't seen his brother enter the dining hall. There were only two things that Fred would have been doing, and George didn't like either of them.

The first possibility was that he'd be trying to secure the perimeter with his men, acting as the rebels' first line of defense, something that was almost suicidal. The other, more likely possibility was that he'd gone off on his own to look for the Warden, which was probably almost as dangerous as trying to hold down the perimeter.

Merlin, why couldn't he have just stuck with Fred? Now he'd have to fight the entire battle not knowing, having no idea where his brother was. George wouldn't be able to survive if Fred died… Fred was the stronger one, the one who always led… If George lost his other, better half, he didn't know what he could do…

"Head up, Veasley," Krum ordered sharply. George jerked out of his thoughts just in time to see Krum march past him in his methodical pacing of the room. _Right_, thought George. _Head up. Don't think about Fred. Just focus on staying alive. Fred would kill you if you let yourself die because you were worrying too much about him. _

Sucking in a deep breath, George stood up a little straighter and focused on the tip of his wand, going over the seven uses of dragon's blood in his head over and over again, and doing everything in his power to distract himself from his brother.

He had just gotten to the fifth use when one of the doors burst open and an enormous, dark-haired soldier burst into the room, wearing black and silver military robes. Dark, dark eyes looked ahead with an unseeing expression, and his thick brows were knit together with something akin to anger.

The man's eyes widened when he looked into the room, and he quickly started to retreat, yelling something in a foreign language.

"HIT HIM!" bellowed Krum, and, all at once, dozens of spells went flying at the soldier. He dropped dead, but more quickly filled his place, spells from the outside cracking into the walls, widening the entrance so more of Grindelwald's soldiers could filter into the dining hall. Dozens of enormous, dark-haired soldiers were suddenly converging on the rebels. Some of the less experienced rebels retreated in fear, but most of them stood their ground.

George immediately found himself drawn to the front of the action, shouting spells and flourishing his wand without really thinking what he was doing. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, increasing his heartbeat, giving him a wild desire to take out as many dark-haired soldiers as possible.

The rebels had the advantage, and George could see, could feel, the dozens of soldiers piling up dead by the doorways, but they kept coming, almost as if they stemmed from some kind of unlimited source, like they were clones instead of actual people. George started growing desperate, his spells going from hexes and jinxes to the strongest curses he knew, to the killing curse on occasion- he couldn't afford to hit a guy and have him get up again only five minutes later.

Off to the side, Krum was dueling four at once, parrying and dodging with a speed and efficiency that didn't fit his duck-like waddle. George saw more soldiers begin to converge on the rebel's primary general and quickly snuck through the crowds of people, sniping off a squat soldier that had been ready to take a strike at Krum's head.

Someone shot a curse straight at George's chest, and he said a hasty, "Protego" before recovering and sending a killing curse in the general direction of his attacker. Green light hit its mark, and another black and silver-clad figure crumpled to the ground. George was too high on adrenaline to feel any numbness or guilt, to feel anything other than a strange sense of satisfaction.

Blinking rapidly, he focused his attention back on the struggling Krum, who was obviously the soldiers' main target. George blasted several curses into the mess of soldiers that surrounded the general, then ducked into the fray himself, eventually winding up with his back to Krum's.

Neither of them had time to acknowledge each other, but both kept up a continuous string of spells. At one point, one of the soldiers shouted, "No more Unforgivables, you morons! It's Veasley! Do you really vant to kill _him_!"

Their words didn't mean that George could relax for even a second, however. The stream of curses coming from the soldiers was strong enough that he didn't have time to register any kind of relief that he could get from knowing that he wasn't going to die quite yet.

The sound of curses and spells continued to fill the room, leaving George unable to hear his own words, making his 'incendios', or 'reductos' fade into thin air as he shouted himself hoarse, throwing as much power into every blast as possible.

Dumbledore's soldiers continued to fall, ranks and ranks of men lying dead on the ground, and still they kept coming, more of them than George could have possibly imagined.

The numbers that Hermione had come up with in the Room of Requirements so long ago were chillingly accurate. They were outnumbered to the point of ridiculousness.

"This was suicide, Krum," George shouted at the first occasion he had.

Viktor cast an explosive spell, knocking three guys off their feet at once, then gruffly replied, "Vould you rather die vithout a fight?"

George had to admit Krum was right, but as he started growing more and more tired, as the Durmstrang soldiers continued pelting him with curses that he became less and less able to defend himself against, he couldn't help but wish that they could have done _anything _else.

"Expelliarums!" someone yelled, firing straight at George. Krum deflected the blow before George got the chance, and, after taking a moment to restart his heart, George raised his wand and resumed his work on the soldiers that were still filtering into the dining hall, their numbers not seeming to have thinned at all. The bodies were beginning to stack up so thickly in the small space that they were tripping over their dead allies.

"This is ridiculous," growled Krum. "Veasley, step back!"

George quickly listened, jumping back behind Krum, wand still raised, and watching with wide eyes as the general stepped forward into what appeared to be a five foot strip of neutral ground, his dark, gnarled wand held high.

Nonverbally, Krum waved his wand, releasing an enormous jet of dragon-shaped fire that plunged straight into the mass of soldiers that were crowding into the dining hall's entrance. George watched on, transfixed, as Dumbledore's army started writhing and screaming under the flames. It was clear why Krum had not used the spell before. More than just being disgustingly inhumane, keeping the dragon under control was clearly taking a lot out of Krum. His thick hand was shaking, and the enormous creature still tore through the crowds in jerky movements, taking out the occasional rebel with the dozens of Durmstrang soldiers.

It wasn't thirty seconds before Krum couldn't control the dragon and was forced into releasing it, and even then George and several others had to scramble to put out the stray flames that had been caused by the nearly uncontrollable fiendfyre. Krum staggered with exhaustion, but managed to keep on his feet, waiting for more curses to come.

None did, not directly at him. Some fighting was still going on in the other half of the room, but Krum had cleared out or scared away most of the remaining soldiers, leaving the walls of the majestic hall coated with soot, the air saturated with smoke that smelled of death.

Once George got the walls to quit burning, he rushed to some of the smoldering bodies, cringing away when he saw that a good number of them weren't dead. Whether ally or enemy, he flung a killing curse at any of the blackened figures that still showed signs of movement, then doused them in water, doing his best to erase any chance of the cursed fire spreading.

"Ve vill have a few minutes," Krum said breathlessly, coming up behind George. "Take any injured vith a chance of survival and put them back there." He jerked his thumb to the very back corner of the room, hardly visible through the smoke. The hospital. George guessed that its wards had saved it from the worst of the fighting.

"A few minutes?" asked George. The smoke made him cough, and suddenly, with the absence of the adrenaline that he'd been running on, he felt extremely nauseous. "What's going to happen then?"

"The soldiers that survived the perimeter fights vill be coming. I vill try to contact the other leaders and get as many men in here as possible. Ve vill need the help."

"Please try to get Fred," George said, sick with worry at the sudden lurching, terrible thought of his brother's fate. Was he even still alive? "I need to know that he's not dead."

"You vould know if he vas dead, Veasley," Krum said, the hardness in his eyes giving way to something that was almost reassuring. "I can see it in the vay that you speak vith each other."

Then he turned and left, leaving George slightly more assured. Of course Krum was right. He'd know if Fred was dead. No matter what his brother was going through at that moment, he was alive. George could feel it.

...

Fred had followed Sirius Black in an attempt to get his group of rebel soldiers into some sort of useful location. Unfortunately, that location had turned out to be one of the key areas of perimeter defense- the back of the manor, the place through which most of Dumbledore's army would be trying to enter.

Enter. Such a demure, unassuming word. Fred looked nervously at the droves of soldiers that were marching across the hilly land outside. The bay window that he had found in an upstairs bedroom gave him a better view than he ever could have wanted. There were maybe a hundred and fifty rebel soldiers guarding that particular part of the manor. He guessed that a thousand Durmstrang soldiers were coming to confront them head on, and that was just for the castle's rear. He had no idea how many were converging on the front.

_I'm going to die today, _Fred thought frantically. _There's no way in hell that I'll survive this, that any of us will survive this. _

The enemy army moved closer, and Fred quickly turned away from the window, ready to head back downstairs to deal with the upcoming battle. He jumped when he realized that he was not alone.

Sirius Black. Bill, along with another fifteen or so rebels, were standing directly behind the dark-haired general.

"I've got a special mission for you, Fred, so listen quickly," Sirius said. "So far, no one's found your father, and we need to kill him before things get out of hand. If he dies, it might just make the enemy retreat, or at least screw up their forces. He's somewhere in this building, and Bill thinks he knows where. I'm giving you some of my best soldiers… you've got to go and try to find the Warden before this gets too out of hand."

"Bill?" Fred asked, glaring at his brother disgustedly. "Why in the hell would he want to help us? Why are you trusting him?"

Instead of letting Sirius answer, Bill stepped forward and spoke up himself, "Father showed how highly he thought of me when he didn't think twice about leaving me in rebel hands." His eyes shone mercilessly. "I want revenge."

"And then what?" asked Fred, stepping closer to the brother that he'd always looked up to most. "You'll kill our father and start fighting for Dumbledore?"

Bill looked him straight in the eye.

"No. I'll find some place to wait for the fighting to end, then decide which side I'll join afterwards."

"That's a coward move," Fred said. Bill shrugged.

"It'll keep me alive. Now are you coming, or not?"

Fred looked at Sirius, whose dark gray eyes ordered him to get going. Fred sighed.

"Okay, fine. I'm coming, if only because it'll give me another half hour to live."

"That's the spirit," Bill joked weakly. "Now come on, we've got to move quick."

Fred nodded, then followed after his brother, jogging away from the big window and into the vast expanse of hallways. He hated himself for so blindly trusting someone he knew he shouldn't, but his brain told him that he had no other choice, that Sirius would have forced him into going with even if he had refused. The group had needed a leader, and Bill definitely wasn't going to act as one.

"If we do find him," panted Fred as they raced down an elaborate staircase, "are any of us going to be able to kill him?"

Bill smirked cockily, if only for a moment.

"I will," he said. "With a little help, I'm almost sure I could take him. You'll have to take Mother."

"What about Percy?" asked Fred.

Bill's brown eyes landed on Fred, and he shook his head, smiling slightly.

"You really don't have a clue, do you?" Fred didn't answer. Bill sighed. "Percy isn't a threat. He can't duel to save his life. I wouldn't be surprised if you could take him out left-handed."

Unsurprised, Fred nodded. Bill picked up the pace, pushing the group forward a little bit faster, up a set of stairs, then through a narrow corridor. When they neared the end of the corridor, he slowed down.

"The door right at the end of this hall," said Bill. "If they haven't joined the fighting yet, they'll be right in here. Stand back, though. They'll all be ready to come after us… I have no doubt they knew we were coming, know what we're saying even right now. You've just got to out-duel them, if you can manage it."

Then, not giving any of the rebels any chance to prepare, he flicked his wand and nonverbally opened the door. It creaked open, and Fred whipped out his wand, ready to deflect a barrage of curses.

No one was in the room. A good deal of glass screens flashed with light, showing various battle scenes, but none of the Weasleys were there. Bill cursed loudly.

"Gone. They must have run away."

Bill ran into the room, and Fred quickly followed, watching on interestedly as he tapped each of the screens with his wand, magnifying the pictures and quickly flipping through moving images of ongoing battles and some of empty rooms, shuffling through what had to have been records of what was going on in every corner of the manor, then stopping on a particularly heated fight.

"Or maybe they haven't gotten away quite yet," Bill said, hastily zooming in on the image. Mrs. Weasley and the Warden were both roughly fighting their way through an ever-shrinking number of rebel soldiers that were trying to block their escape, all while Percy watched awkwardly from the side. James and McGonagall were both there, fighting them at the same time, and Hermione hovered towards the edge of the group, occasionally deflecting a blow, but making herself scarce.

"Shit!" Fred said, eyes widening at the scene that was playing out in front of them. "Bill, get us down there, _NOW!_"

His older brother didn't need to be told twice. Bill shut the screens down with a flick of his wand, then turned and began taking a seemingly haphazard route through the mansion, slipping through secret passageways and behind tapestries, occasionally turning back and finding alternate routes to avoid the worst of the fighting. Some of the group got lost in trying to keep up with him, but Fred followed quickly and obediently, thinking what Lily and Harry would do without James, fretting about the seemingly invincible Minerva McGonagall, and worrying his head off over Hermione.

Finally, without warning, Bill burst out of a portrait and into the middle of the battle that had been going on only minutes before. The only thing that had changed was that James Potter now lie crumbled against the wall, blood running down his temple.

Fred's heart clenched, and he uttered a silent prayer that the man was still alive.

Arthur Weasley allowed himself a moment of distraction when he heard the portrait hole open, and a pleased expression decorated his face when his eyes landed on Bill's face.

"Ah, son. I've been waiting for you to return to me-"

"Fucking bastard," Bill growled, taking out his wand and shouting, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The Warden spun out of the way easily, his scarred face contorting in rage when he hopped back to his feet. He didn't have time for anymore talk, however, because both McGonagall and Bill converged on him with a frightening ferocity.

Fred looked around quickly, his eyes wandering for only seconds before they landed on his mother, who was dueling with Hermione. Percy was looking back and forth between the two of them in complete terror, his face unexpectedly torn.

Unthinkingly, Fred jumped into the fray, going straight at the woman who was supposed to be his mother.

"Nice to see you again, Freddy," she said, flourishing her wand and shifting her focus from Hermione to her son. "I've heard that you've been getting yourself into trouble lately."

"Burn in hell," snapped Fred. The homesickness that came without seeing his real mother in months only fueled his anger. "Expelliarmus!"

His 'mother' ducked underneath the curse and rolled to her feet in a move that his real mother never would have been able to pull off. Unruffled, she fired an unbelievably strong blasting curse right at his face. The force of it completely shattered Fred's shield and threw him backwards into a wall. He cracked his head hard enough that his vision went black for a second, but Fred forced himself back onto his feet when he saw Hermione getting herself backed up into a wall.

"Crucio!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, firing the spell hard enough to break straight through Hermione's 'protego' and sending the bushy-haired with into the ground. Fred angrily started to fire some curse, any curse, at his 'mother', but an enraged, "Stupefy!" stopped him cold.

Bright red light flew out of Percy's wand and his Molly Weasley right in the chest. Fred didn't think, just knew that he had to take advantage of the opportunity, and shouted "Reducto!"

The frozen Weasley Matriarch burst into thousands of pieces.

Fred didn't even blink, instead turning to look at Percy, wondering what he was going to do next. His eyes widened in shock when he saw his least-favorite brother falling to his knees next to a shaking Hermione, holding her gently… caringly.

Anger sparked in Fred's chest.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, raising his wand to blast his idiot brother off of Hermione. Then a sharp curse flew just over his shoulder, and he remembered that he had bigger things to worry about.

Whirling around, Fred joined the fight to bring down Arthur Weasley, squelching down the fear that he felt when he saw that Bill and McGonagall had hardly been able to touch him.

"Another one," laughed the Warden. Strands of sweaty red hair were plastered to his forehead, hanging in his eyes. He looked half-crazy. "Fred. You always were my favorite." Bill and McGonagall both tried to curse him, but Arthur deflected the blows effortlessly. Smiling, like he knew exactly what he was doing, the Warden continued, "You're making a mistake, Boy. I'll take you back, you know. Dumbledore and Grindelwald both want you." He paused to deflect more spells, then said, "If you come back to our side, you can have whatever you want. You could be so powerful…"

Fred immediately started running away, knowing what Arthur was trying to do, and not trusting himself to stay in control. He was almost out of the room, almost there, when his father's voice reached his ears, yelling, "Help me, and you'll rule the entire Empire! You'll be stronger than Grindelwald!"

Stronger than Grindelwald. Stronger than Grindelwald.

Fred trudged back to the fight, anger and need and adrenaline giving him the power that he loved more than anything.

He raised his wand and pointed it at McGonagall's turned head with a smile on his face.

"You're a fool if you think you can beat the Weasleys, traitorous bitch," he growled, then opened his mouth to cast the killing curse.


	30. Stronger

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**When the waves are taking you under**_  
><em><strong>Hold on just a little bit longer<strong>_  
><em><strong>He knows that this is gonna make you stronger, stronger<strong>_  
><em><strong>The pain ain't gonna last forever<strong>_  
><em><strong>And things can only get better<strong>_  
><em><strong>Believe me<strong>_  
><em><strong>This is gonna make you stronger<strong>_  
><em><strong>Gonna make you stronger, stronger, stronger<strong>_

_**Stronger, Mandisa **_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

Draco had hidden near the entrance to the Weasley Manor, ready to run away if the rebels happened to lose. He had no intention of being publicly murdered for what he'd done to Prewett, and he wasn't stupid enough to think that his fate would be any different if the rebels didn't win.

From what Draco could tell, he'd been smart to wedge himself in the small compartment the was hidden by a life-sized statue of Arthur Weasley. Even if he could not see very much fighting, his gut told him that the rebels weren't doing too hot.

The blond had just started convincing himself that it was time to leave when the Warden and his wife hastily descended the staircase, right in front of his statue. Someone must have been stationed at the door, because a barrage of curses were fired straight at them, and Draco could hear a rebel scream, "Someone get General Black! We've found the Warden!"

Almost immediately, a barrage of more rebel soldiers flooded the area, but the two Weasleys mowed them down with an eerie kind of ease. Draco shoved the stone to the side, just a few inches, so that he could see a little more of the fighting. James and McGonagall had both of their units in the area, even if it looked like those two were doing more than the rest of their soldiers combined. After a few minutes, Percy Weasley and Fred's pet Mudblood came bursting out of a secret passageway, right into the midst of the battle.

Percy grasped at Hermione's arm, holding her back in a way that had Draco's head spinning. What the hell…?

He shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the unlikely couple and refocusing on the battle. The Warden was mowing down soldier after soldier, his shields so strong that nothing seemed to even touch him.

Draco was just beginning to wonder whether or not he shouldn't crawl out of his hiding place and help when another portrait opened, this one revealing Bill and Fred Weasley. Bill, looking absolutely livid, joined the fight against the Warden. He watched on in silence as James was knocked down, and as Percy and Fred worked together to take out Molly Weasley…

Everything seemed to go into slow motion after that. Somehow, Fred, McGonagall, and Bill had become the only ones left standing against the Warden, with Percy kneeling next to Hermione's small form, and everyone else on the ground, injured or dead.

Bill was clearly affecting the Warden the most, his curses and spells darker and more potent than the others', and for a moment Draco let himself hope that they would overpower him, that the man who'd put that price on his head was going to pay for it.

Then the Warden started talkin to Fred. Draco wasn't listening at first, didn't start listening until he _felt _the battle slow down, the earth stop spinning. Fred was running away, running away from his father's words, and Draco was beginning to get confused when the Warden's low voice finally penetrated his scattered thoughts.

"Help me and you'll rule the entire Empire! You'll be stronger than Grindelwald!"

Fred stopped. Turned around. Something in his face, in his eyes changed, and Draco knew in the pit of his stomach that this was the Fred who had been his friend, the Fred who he really, really did not want to see.

Draco had heard bits and pieces of the rumors surrounding the enigma of the Weasley twins, the way that they were supposed to switch back and forth between their old and present selves, but he hadn't put any stock in them, had written them off as lies…

Now he knew that everything he had heard was a hundred percent true.

_If Fred goes to their side, _thought Draco, _the rebels won't stand a chance. _

Even though helping the stupid Mudblood-lovers made Draco sick, all he could think about was his dead father and Arthur Weasley's stinging betrayal. He crawled out of his hiding place with no wand, no weapon… no nothing.

""You're a fool if you think you can beat the Weasleys, traitorous bitch," growled Fred. Draco ran forward as Fred raised his wand and opened his mouth, ready to cast the killing curse. Without thinking twice about it, he tackled his one-time friend from behind just as Fred called, "Avada Kedavra!"

Fred's wand jerked, the spell going right into the floor, and Fred and Draco tumbled to the ground in an angry heap, Fred's eyes flashing, his face turning red with anger. Draco kicked and shoved at him, trying to keep him down, to get his wand away from him, to do anything, but he was overpowered and overmatched and knew that it would only be a matter of time before something hit him.

Above him, Bill had jerked his head away from the distraction, focusing instead on his father, and McGonagall followed his example. Draco saw bits and pieces of the fight above him as he struggled to avoid Fred's hard fists. McGonagall barley dodging a flash of green light. Bill finally managing to hit the Warden with a nasty purple curse. A pair of gray eyes and mane of messy black hair.

_Sirius. _

Fred roughly grabbed the sides of Draco's head, finally getting a solid grip on him. Draco tried kicking harder, but the other boy was unmovable. Draco had always been skinny, and Fred was older and stronger, and probably had fifty pounds on Draco.

Roughly, Fred slammed Draco's head against the ground with a sickening crack. For a moment there was the sensation of terrible, terrible pain, and then everything went black.

…

Hermione blinked several times as her mind started to clear from the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Someone… Percy, Percy was in front of her, and there were pretty lights flying everywhere, and so much smoke and screaming and…

Merlin, the battle. Hermione quickly sat up, pushing away Percy's restricting hands, and forced herself to focus on what was going on.

There were bodies everywhere, most of them rebels, none of them moving. Fred Weasley was lifting himself off of Draco Malfoy, dusting his hands as if he had just finished dealing with some kind of filthy work, while Bill Weasley and McGonagall were attempting to fight the Warden. Moving her eyes slowly across the rest of the room, Hermione saw Sirius Black sprinting towards the fight, yelling for McGonagall and Bill to focus on Fred, his wand raised, eyes lit up with rage.

With a rough flourish, Sirius sent a blast of ridiculously powerful yellow light straight at the Warden. It was deflected easily. Hermione turned her attention to Fred, eyes widening in horror when she realized what was going on.

His old self had taken over, just like it had back when she had been with him at Hogwarts. Hermione had almost forgotten about that possibility because it hadn't happened in so long, but now, watching the too-powerful Fred taking on Bill and McGonagall at the same time, she knew that everyone had been stupid to forget.

Bill tried to stun Fred, but he evaded the attack. Arthur flicked a reductor curse straight at Sirius, who absorbed the strength of the spell with his wand and flung it back at the other man. Fred blasted McGonagall with a knee-reversing hex, but the older woman shielded herself before the nasty spell could reach her.

Both fights went back and forth, back and forth, and then, as if by divine intervention, Fred collapsed to the ground without having been hit by a single spell. McGonagall and Bill both glanced at him, then accepted that he was actually unconscious, and spun to focus on the Warden. Moments later, Fred began to stir as well, his eyes red and bleary, but his features determined and kind, not crazed and ruthless.

Hermione tightened her grip on Percy's hand as the Warden, preoccupied with the three witches and wizards he was facing, forgot about Fred. Praying the she was right about him having his head back, Hermione watched as Fred slowly reached for his wand, carefully aimed it at the warden, and, his voice weak and raspy, said, "Avada Kedavra."

Green light filled the entrance hall, and everything froze for a short amount of time before the killing curse connected squarely with Arthur Weasley's chest. All went quiet, and, as if in slow motion, the Warden crumpled majestically to the ground.

A few seconds passed in complete silence until Sirius, getting over the shock first, ordered, "Minerva, look after Draco. Fred, if you've got yourself together, come with me. Your brother has to need some help. Bill, either make yourself useful, or get yourself out of here. I will kill you if I feel that I need to."

Then Sirius pulled Fred to his feet, and the two men disappeared in a cloud of smoke and debris. Hermione struggled free from a shocked Percy's arms.

"Thank you for helping me," she said as she double-checked to make sure that she still had her wand. A smile crossed her face as her hands closed around the comforting stick of wood. "I won't even pretend to care that your father is dead, but, if I were you, I'd get out of here before you end up just like him."

Then Hermione ran in the direction that Sirius and Fred had gone, knowing that she was going to find a fight there.

…

Krum had been right when he said that they only had a few minutes to recover. Almost as soon as George had caught his breath, another group of Durmstrang soldiers had converged on the dining hall. Only a portion of the injured had been moved to the medical area, and only one set of rebel reinforcements had arrived, which wasn't ideal, but George had a good feeling in his gut, like they had just gained an unexpected advantage.

As the Durmstrang soldiers resumed their attack, George and Krum once again took their places next to each other, doing everything in their power to stop the onslaught. Like before, it seemed that a new soldier always came forward to replace any that were killed, but their forces seemed to be getting weaker, these new fighters less talented, easier to take down.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, George saw two people sneak into one of the side doors of the room, one that had been spell-locked to keep out everyone except for the rebels. He allowed himself a quick glance in that direction. It was Sirius and Fred. George had never been so relieved in his life.

"May I have your attention, please!" barked Sirius, his loud voice carrying over the spells and curses and pain-filled screams. The room did not grow completely quiet, but the battle momentarily ceased. George took a step backwards and took the time to take several exhausted breaths.

"Just now, Molly and Arthur Weasley have both been killed! You have two choices. Either surrender now, or meet the same fate as them! Which will it be?"

In response, the firing started up again. Fred immediately ran up to George's side, his own wand raised, and shot his brother a weak and exhausted smile.

"I guess they aren't big negotiators," he joked. George saw someone fire a stunning spell at his twin, and hurriedly raised a shield to protect him.

"Obviously not," George laughed uneasily.

Fighting as one, the two of them took out soldier after soldier. Sirius had stationed himself on the opposite side of the room as Krum, and in a display of brilliant magic, took to firing a continuous string of blasting curses as the enemy, making for a constant sequence of explosions that took out dozens within minutes.

The smell of smoke and the smell of death soon wound together to make the air in the room almost impossible to breathe, but George knew that they would be able to leave soon. Holes were finally starting to appear in the enemy army, and it was becoming apparent that they only had an hour left, at most.

Finally gaining a sense of progress, the rebel forces rallied with a surprising strength. Every spell grew stronger, and some of the injured who hadn't been expected to return to the battle struggled to their feet, determined to finish the fight.

Now, when George took out a soldier, it left a gap in the enemy's formation that revealed limited numbers. Krum, his face hard, eventually finished the battle once and for all with another round of dangerous fire that scorched and burnt Dumbledore's remaining soldiers. If there were any left, they weren't willing to stay and fight.

Numbly, George helped to extinguish all of the stray flames. Fred and he were commissioned to take enemy bodies outside, where they were callously burnt, never to be seen again. The bodies of allies were all collected in the dining hall and reverently laid out across the floor. George felt sick when he noticed James Potter among the dead, Lily screaming at his body, and Harry hanging back, his face pale white.

"Merlin," Fred muttered sickly. "The poor guy can't seem to keep his parents in any world."

Looking away from the hysterical Lily, George said, "At least it wasn't worse. At least we won."

"Yeah," breathed Fred. He let out a half-crazed laugh. "Right. At least… at least we won."


	31. Everybody Wants to go to Heaven

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

_**Everybody wants to go to heaven **__**  
><strong>__**Get their wings and fly around **__**  
><strong>__**Everybody want to go to heaven **__**  
><strong>__**But nobody want to go now**_

_**Someday I want to see those streets of gold in my halo **__**  
><strong>__**But I wouldn`t mind waitin` **__**at least a hundred years or so**_

_**Everybody Wants to go to Heaven, Kenny Chesney**_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

The rebels got very little time to celebrate their victory. Hermione had snuck into the dining hall just in time to see Krum burn away the last of Dumbledore's men, and had immediately been put to work in attending to the injured.

From the makeshift hospital, Hermione saw men moving dozens of enemy bodies outside, with the allies being set gently on the dining hall floor. She noticed Harry crying over his father's body and wished she had time to comfort him, but a rough-looking older lady snapped at her to get to work applying potions to all of the burnt and cursed patients.

Within an hour, everyone was healed as well as possible, or dead. Those who had been moving bodies congregated in an exhausted-looking group towards the entrance of the hall, and the impromptu medical staff soon collapsed onto the floor as well, resting their heads on ashy knees.

Hermione closed her eyes and used the absence of work to take several deep breaths. She was hungry and tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep, but Sirius stepped into the front of the room to speak before she could do any of it.

Unfortunately, his words didn't promise very much rest in the future.

In his usual rough, bark-like voice, he bellowed, "I realize that you are tired, but we have no time to rest. Dumbledore will be throwing all of his remaining forces into the defense of Hogwarts, and though we are weak, we cannot give him time to prepare.

"The next six hours will be given to you to rest, recuperate, or locate any friends or family that may be missing, while the leaders- you know who you are- meet in the Weasley's command center and discuss our strategy for our next battle. I will report to you again when your six hours are up."

Then he went away.

Hermione knew she only had a short time to rest, not a quarter of what she would have liked, but she still knew exactly where she wanted to go.

Tiredly, she stumbled out of the dining hall into an area that she knew she was familiar with. Then, with drooping eyes, she made her way to Percy's room and collapsed onto his neatly made bed.

It still smelled like him. Hermione nestled herself further into the covers and took a deep breath of the warm, parchmenty smell. Merlin, how she wished that he could have just stayed, that- "So this is why you've been acting so strangely."

Hermione jumped, startled when she saw Lee standing in the doorway. He looked good- better than she had remembered ever seeing him. She'd seen him numerous times at Headquarters, but her head had been so up in the clouds that she hadn't noticed how well he'd filled out, or how, when his skin wasn't so sickly or his scars so obvious, he was actually kind of handsome.

"I… what do you mean, _this_?" asked Hermione.

Lee walked slowly into the room, his steps careful and deliberate. She wondered where he had been during the battle. His hair wasn't covered in ash, so it had to have been somewhere around the perimeter, where everything had been the most dangerous. Fortunately, he didn't look hurt.

"You're smelling Percy Weasley's bedding," laughed Lee. He ran a hand through his hair, which had grown back in thick dark curls. "I heard Harry say that he thought something happened between you two while you were captured, but with everything going on, no one's had time for much personal talk. I'm guessing he didn't even ask you about it."

"No," Hermione said defensively. "No one has, and that's because there's nothing to ask. _Nothing _happened."

"We've got six hours, Hermione. Six free hours, something we haven't had together for weeks. I miss all that time, just the two of us, just talking. It seems like you have a lot to say, so why don't you speak? Don't lie, either. I have a good idea what Sirius is planning, and if all goes well, it won't matter, anyway. Your words will be erased, our… friendship will be gone forever, and anything you tell me will just disappear."

"What's Sirius planning?" asked Hermione, ignoring Lee's words.

"He's not going to try to actually fight," Lee said. "At least that's what I got from a conversation I overheard between him and Krum just a while ago. They're using every last one of us to capture Dumbledore or Grindelwald, or maybe both, so that the twins can go back in time and fix everything. By tomorrow, we'll either be dead, or we won't ever have existed in the first place."

Hermione stared at him.

"So you think I should spill my secrets to you because… pretty soon they won't be around anymore?"

"Obviously," laughed Lee. "I miss talking to you, I can tell that you've been freaking out for a long time, and we've got the opportunity to do it right now. So why don't we talk?"

"I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"Now? We'll be fighting for our lives in eight hours tops. Do you really want to spend six of those _sleeping_?"

He was right, and Hermione knew it, but she hadn't spoken to anyone, not really, not except for Percy, since the war really started, and she felt safer staying in her own isolated bubble where she was still half a traitor, where she was the one caught in prison when everyone else was doing their own thing.

She had felt _separate _from everyone since her imprisonment, and it felt too late to change that now.

"Hermione," Lee said, looking her right in the eye. "Fred and George have been off playing the heroes, and you're the only other person I really know here. I'm scared, and I need _someone_. I may have left you behind before, but that doesn't mean I don't still care. Sometimes, I think that war makes people forget what's really important, and I'll admit that it's kind of happened with me, but at least give me a little bit of your time. _Distract _me."

Hermione met Lee's dark eyes, and she sighed, patting the space next to her on the bed.

"Fine. For old time's sake."

"Of course," smiled Lee. His teeth were bright white. "Back when we were safe and enslaved and it actually seemed like something good would come out of freedom."

Hermione laughed weakly, but then said, "You really don't want to hear about Percy, do you?"

"That wanker?" asked Lee. "I'd honestly rather hear about hippogriff droppings, but something tells me you don't have much to say that isn't about him. How about this? I don't care. Just talk. Make me forget that, in a day or two, I, like I am right now, am not going to exist anymore, one way or another."

So Hermione talked, and tried to make both her and Lee forget.

…

"Is he okay…?"

"I never would have expected him to do anything like that…"

"He practically won us the battle…"

"Quiet your voices. He is starting to move."

Draco groaned loudly. His head felt like it was about ready to explode, and all of the voices above him were only making it worse. He reached for his thick down comforter and tried to pull it close around him, then shivered when he realized that it wasn't there.

Blearily, Draco opened his eyes, and, with a jerk, was thrown back into reality. He wasn't at home, or Hogwarts. He was at Weasley Manor, in the aftermath of a battle, and… and he was alive.

The realization didn't make him as happy as it should have.

McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, and a soldier Draco didn't know were all staring down at him. He felt strangely disappointed that Lovegood wasn't there, then mentally kicked himself. He must have hit his head harder than he'd thought.

"Who…" started Draco, but the word came out too hoarse and gravelly to hear. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Who won?"

"We did," said Neville. His chubby cheeks were curved up into a smile, even though his face was coated black with ash. Now that Draco cared enough to look, he realized that it wasn't just Longbottom. Everything, everywhere, was black and gray with soot, even the injured rebels that lined the makeshift beds surrounding his. He supposed that he probably was, too.

The ash made the air hard to breathe and added to the depressing mood brought on by the dead bodies.

"We won," said Draco. The rebels had won, and it was at least partly because of him. For the first time in a very long time, he felt his lips stretch into a smile at the knowledge that he did something that mattered. He had made an actual difference. Maybe his father would have killed him for it, and maybe he wasn't _thrilled _to find out that he was, in all reality, a filthy blood traitor, but it was _something_, something that would make an impact on the way the entire war turned out.

Something that would help the side that he now realized was _his_.

"Yes, yes," said McGonagall patiently, even though she was giving Draco a look that she'd never given him before. It was almost like she was proud of him. "We won. Now tell me, Mister Malfoy, how is your head doing? We are short on potions and could only spare a small amount of a weak painkiller, but there were no broken bones… I do believe that you have only sustained a minor concussion."

"I'm fine," Draco said. "My head hurts like hell, but at least I'm not dead."

"Good," said McGonagall. "I will leave you to rest now, but if you need anything-"

"A wand?" asked Draco. He forced himself into a sitting position and said, "I think I deserve one of those by now, don't you?"

"I'll talk to your godfather about it," said McGonagall, but the corners of her lips were turned up in a way that told Draco she already knew what the answer would be. Then, gesturing to Neville and the other soldier, she said, "I am already late for the strategy meeting. Continue to keep an eye on the injured, and make sure that Mister Malfoy does not overexert himself. We'll be needing him when we launch the invasion."

Then she walked away.

Draco opened his mouth, wanting to ask about Luna, but he was too tired, and his head hurt too badly.

With a low sigh, Draco laid his head back down on his makeshift bed and fell back to sleep.

…

"This war is coming to an end," announced Sirius Black. He should have been smiling, but his mood was grave and dark. Fred wondered if it was because of James's death. He'd never seen the two together, but had they been close in this dimension? "I have just received word from one of our spies that the palace has been evacuated, and all of the government officials drafted to aid in the defense of Hogwarts. This next battle is pretty much all or nothing."

Fred impatiently raised his hand.

"Yes, Veasley?" asked Krum.

"I thought you said we'd have a chance to get there before all the reinforcements if we scrambled, but if government officials are already at Hogwarts, what's the use of hurrying?"

There was a murmur of agreement from others in the room, but Sirius's loud voice silenced them.

"I didn't say that we would get there before the reinforcements arrived," said Sirius. "There's no chance of that, not when Hogwarts is much easier for them to filter soldiers into than this manor. I said that we could manage to launch an attack before they had time to _prepare_. Strategy, formations, weapons… they won't have any of those things ready by tomorrow, and while we won't either, our forces are so… inexperienced, that the extra time would do them much more good than it would do for us."

"Oh," said Fred. "So…"

"It is smartest to go as soon as possible. Fortunately, we don't need to fight to win this battle."

This caused more talking to break out in the room, but Krum and Sirius both appeared unconcerned. Their eyes were glued on Fred and George.

"Think, Veasleys," said Krum. "Vhy vould ve need to vin if you are to erase if all anyvay? It vould be simpler to get Grindelvald or Dumbledore, take them somevhere else, and force the information out of them."

This silenced everyone, and though it seemed to raise the mood of some, to make the battle seem a good deal easier to win, it dampened Fred's mood considerably, and he could feel that it had the same effect on George.

"I'm not trying to be pessimistic or anything," said George, "but how are we going to get them to help us?"

"Yeah," Fred said. "I've got no doubt that one or the other will know how to fix everything, but if there's some prophecy that says they'll attain eternal power if they do everything _but _help us, wouldn't they pretty much rather die than give us the information we need?"

Krum shrugged.

"Ve have our vays."

"Not reassuring," Fred reminded him.

"Veritaserum, for one thing," said Sirius. "If that isn't potent enough, there is the Cruciatus, and, if nothing else works, it would be possible to remove their memories with a pensieve. Don't worry about that, though. Figuring out how to get you back in time is one of those things that can't be planned. What we have to worry about is capturing one of the enemy leaders, and Krum and I have a few ideas. We think…"

Fred leaned back and began listening to Sirius's complicated strategies, even though he couldn't help but worry.

In just over six hours, they'd be getting ready to start fighting again, barely after recovering from the first battle.

This time, though, victory wouldn't be necessary. One prisoner, some Veritaserum, and a good deal of luck by he and George would be all it'd take to get _everything _back to the way it was before.

If everything turned out like it was planned, by the time the next twenty four hours had passed, the world would either be back like it was supposed to be, or the prophecy that Snape had discussed would be fulfilled, and the old Fred and George would take over forever.

**A/N- **

**Another kind of filler chapter before a big next chapter, a bigger chapter 33, and the finale in either chapter 34 or 35. Thanks for all of your amazing reviews, and I really appreciate your support, especially given that these last chapters have been so slow in coming. I'll try to update again ASAP, and I really hope that you all keep telling me what you think. **

**Thanks, **

**~bballgirl32~**


End file.
